


Supernatural x Reader One Shots

by DaisyErina



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Crowley x Reader - Freeform, Drama, Fluff, Gabriel x reader - Freeform, Other, Reader Insert, Supernatural - Freeform, balthazar x reader - Freeform, cas x reader, charlie xreader, dean winchester x reader - Freeform, jo x reader - Freeform, lucifer x reader, sam winchester x reader - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-21
Updated: 2017-11-30
Packaged: 2018-05-28 02:39:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 64
Words: 89,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6311941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DaisyErina/pseuds/DaisyErina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just like my Avenger ones. Requests open.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Dean - Fight For Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a fight with Dean, you go off on your own and get kidnapped.

**Fight For Me**  
Request for Koda  
A/N: This will be the start of my Supernatural x Reader series. Yes, I am taking requests.

You stood from where you were leaning over the hood of your car, wiping the sweat from your brow. You’d spent the better part of three hours under the hood, trying to figure out why the car wouldn’t run. You only knew enough about cars to fix one if it broke down on the side of the road, but you were determined to fix your baby.  
Your boyfriend Dean knew plenty about cars, and he liked to show it off. He’d fixed yours and his more times than you cared to keep track of. But you really wanted to fix it on your own this time.  
You were currently staying at Bobby’s since you, Sam, and Dean had just finished a big hunt. You’d taken down a vampire nest and thought you deserved a few days of rest and relaxation. For you, that meant losing yourself in your own mind as your hands worked of their own accord, twisting and pulling things inside the hood of your 1969 Pontiac Firebird. (1)  
“Babe?” a familiar voice called, pulling you from your thoughts. You heard the familiar footfalls of Dean’s leather boots approaching you, but you remained under the hood. “Babe, come on. Take a break. Lunch is ready.”  
“In a minute,” you replied, standing back up with your hands now covered in grease. It would take several showers to get all of it off.  
“Making any progress?” he asked, leaning against the side of the car.  
You blew out a breath, crossing your arms with a pout. “No…”  
You didn’t like admitting defeat, especially not to him. He would chuckle at your failures like a teasing boyfriend and then take over and do it for you.  
Which is exactly what he was doing now. A taunting smirk crossed his lips as he looked at you. “Want some help?”  
You tilted your head and narrowed your eyes. “Nope.”  
He frowned. “What? Since when? You always accept my help.”  
“Well not this time,” you replied. It was a good ninety degrees outside, and the blazing sun beating down on your (s/k) skin was making you cranky. Plus, you’d spent most of the day under or inside your car, which was even hotter than the dry air outside.  
“What’s wrong?” he asked.  
You sighed and wiped your brow again. “Nothing.”  
“It’s something,” he pressed, stepping closer. He rested his hands on your hips, which you pulled away from. Your normally loved his arms around you, but his body heat was overwhelming and you were irritated. His frown deepened when you twisted out of his hold.  
“Babe?” he asked.  
“I’m just tired of you constantly thinking that I’m a little girl who needs help,” you snapped. “You’re always trying to keep me from hunts or fix my car or tell me what to do. I’m not a child; I’m your girlfriend!”  
“Well excuse me for wanting to help,” he countered, his brows furrowing in irritation. “Excuse me for not wanting you to hunt because I don’t want to watch you die.”  
“Don’t pretend that’s the only reason,” you replied, running a hand through your hair. “And what makes you think I’ll die? Do you really have so little faith in my skills as a hunter that I’ll just walk in and get myself killed?”  
“No,” he sighed. “That’s not what I meant-”  
“Save it,” you returned. “Save your crap. I’m going for a walk.”  
You turned on your heel and headed off the property and down the sidewalk.

You let out a frustrated growl, throwing your weight against a brick wall. You closed your eyes and ran your hands down your face, sighing dramatically.  
“(y/n)? Are you okay?”  
You cracked open one eye and turned your head to see Sam cautiously approaching. You nodded, dropping your hands to your sides. “I’m fine, Sam.”  
“What’s wrong? Dean said you had a fight.”  
You nodded. “I’m tired of him treating me like a child. I’m not allowed to hunt, I’m not allowed to fix my own car… He calls me his girlfriend but he never acts like it.”  
“He’s just protective,” Sam reasoned, standing in front of you. “He doesn’t want you to get hurt.”  
“He doesn’t give me the chance to get hurt! I don’t get to hunt because he doesn’t want to let me die. What if it turns out I’m really good? Who says that I’ll die the second I start a hunt?”  
“Dean logic,” he shrugged. “He didn’t want me to hunt at first either.”  
“He doesn’t get to make that decision,” you groaned, collapsing against the moose’s chest. He let out a chuckle, wrapping you in a hug. You’d grown close to the younger Winchester during your relationship with Dean.  
All of the anger and frustration you felt mixed with the heat and exhaustion of the day as you looked up at Sam. Acting on impulse, you tangled a hand in his shaggy brown hair and pulled his lips down to yours. He gasped in surprise, too in shock to push you away.  
Just as you were about to pull back, a familiar voice yelled your name. You jumped back in surprise, pushing Sam away. You turned to see Dean angrily walking towards you.  
“What the Hell, (y/n)?” he growled.  
“Dean, I-”  
“We have a fight so you go off and make out with my own brother?!”  
“Dean, listen-”  
He cut Sam off too. “No, Sam. This isn’t okay. If you two want to be together you be together, but you can’t do it behind my back.”  
“Dean, it’s not like that,” you tried.  
“Says the one who kissed him!” Dean yelled.  
“Maybe if you treated her better, she wouldn’t have left,” Sam reminded.  
“So it’s my fault?”  
You let out a yell and pushed past the both of them, walking down the street and away from the boys.  
When you were out of eyesight, a gloved hand wrapped around your face, stifling your surprised screams. An arm wrapped around your torso, pulling you into the bushes.  
“I’ve finally caught you,” a male voice whispered. “The Winchesters’ pet. My boss will be so happy to have you as a prisoner.”  
Something blunt struck your head and the world went dark.

When you awoke, you were tired to a chair with a gag in your mouth. You coughed at the taste of dirt and who-knows-what else. You struggled to move, discovering your bindings. Your eyes fluttered open and closed as you tried to stay awake.  
“So she wakes,” the voice from before taunted. “The Winchesters’ pet. We’ve been looking for you.”  
“What do you want?” you asked, though it was muffled by the gag.  
He chuckled darkly, reaching a hand out to pull the disgusting cloth from your mouth. “Isn’t obvious? I want information.”  
“What information?”  
“About the Winchesters, of course.” He circled you slowly, his dagger gleaming in the singular light of the room. “I know they’ve been tracking me and a few others, and I want to know why.”  
“I don’t know anything about them tracking,” you lied. You’d been helping them track down Crowley, taking out his goons first.  
The back of his hand collided with your cheek, turning your head. The left side of your face stung and you knew there’d be a red mark.  
“Don’t like to me,” he growled. “I know they’ve been tracking us. Tell me why.”  
“I don’t know!” you insisted.  
He pressed the tip of the dagger to your shoulder, enough to hurt but not enough to bleed. “That’s not the answer I’m looking for.”  
“I don’t know anything.”  
He sighed dramatically and dug the knife deeper. He created a gash along you shoulder which quickly began oozing blood. You ground your teeth together to keep from crying out.  
“Are you sure you don’t know?” he asked, though you could tell he didn’t believe you.  
You nodded. You had a while to go before you couldn’t take anymore. That would buy the boys some time.  
A punch to the nose knocked you back out.

You awoke some hours later to the sounds of fighting. Fists making contact with face echoed loudly in the otherwise empty warehouse you were still trapped in. You lifted your head to find that you were still tied to a chair, but Sam and Dean had come to your rescue. There were far more demons than there were brothers, but Sam and Dean were handling it.  
Sam glanced at you and saw you were awake. He finished off the demon he was fighting, using the demon blade to kill him instantly. He then rushed behind you, untying your ropes. He held your face in his hands, taking in your half-asleep expression and the bruises littering your features.  
“You’re gonna be okay, (y/n),” he whispered. “Dean will get you out.”  
You tried to smile at his words. You knew he said “Dean” instead of “Dean and I” because he wanted things to be right between the two of you. He always thought you belonged together.  
Dean finished off the rest of the attack demons, rushing over to you. “Baby, I’m so sorry.”  
You shook your head, trying to tell him that it was okay and not his fault. You melted against him as he took you in his arms, lifting you carefully. His heart broke at your injuries, his eyes drawn to the gash on your shoulder. He all but ran out of the warehouse, lying you down in the backseat of Baby. He tossed Sam the keys before climbing in with you, letting you use his lap as a pillow.

Once back at Bobby’s, Dean laid you on the couch and ran to get the medical kit. Bobby and Sam stayed by your side, checking your pulse and your breathing. Dean poured whiskey over your shoulder to clean the wound, causing you to hiss in pain. He whispered repeated apologies as he set up the needle and dental floss, counting down from three before piercing your skin. You let out several grunts of pain, unable to stop yourself. You knew admitting injury made Dean feel worse, but you were too tired to have any control.  
You let out a sigh when he was done and opened your eyes. Sam and Bobby left the room to give you some privacy.  
“I’m sorry,” you murmured, reaching up with your uninjured arm to touch his face.  
He leaned into your touch, shaking his head. “I’m sorry,” he corrected. “If I hadn’t yelled at you…”  
“I yelled too,” you reminded. “We were both angry.”  
“This is why I don’t want you to hunt…”  
“I wasn’t hunting,” you pointed out. “I could have handled it if I was hunting.”  
“But do you understand now?” he asked, his eyes darting to your stitches. “You got hurt and could have gotten killed because of me. If you hunt and I’m not there, or I’m not paying attention… I can’t lose you, (y/n).”  
“You won’t,” you promised. You pulled him closer with your hand on his face. When he was an inch away, you tilted your head up, trying to claim his lips. He took the hint and leaned down, pressing his lips to yours. You smiled softly into the kiss. You’d missed his touch.  
“I’m sorry,” he whispered.  
“No more fights?” you asked with a small smile.  
“No more fights,” he promised. You scooted over on the couch, making room for him. He lay down beside you, holding you close by your waist. Your uninjured arm was pressed into his side and your other hand rested on his chest. You tucked your head into his neck, closing your eyes.  
“I love you,” he whispered.  
“I love you too,” you smiled.

 

(1) I was going to do (f/car) but I know half of my readers will choose Dean’s car…


	2. Charlie - This is Halloween

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You get invited to a Halloween party by a beautiful redhead

**This Is Halloween**  
A/N: I’ve had this idea for months. It’s based on something that happened to me when I worked at Spirit Halloween, only my experience didn’t have a happy ending. Mine was just the working at a Halloween store and talking to a cute girl part. Didn’t get any further than that.

“Have a nice day!” you called sweetly to the mother and daughter who were now making their way to the front of the store. You had just upsold a handful of makeup and accessories in addition to the two butterfly costumes the pair had picked out. You were one of the Halloween store’s best employees, always making customers feel good about their costume choices and making them want to buy more items.  
Your smile brightened as a rather attractive redhead approached the dressing room counter, followed by who you assumed to be her two brothers. They seemed much less excited than she did as they set their costumes on the counter.  
You raised a brow as you opened each package and took the costumes out. “Ghostbusters, huh?”  
They nodded and you could swear the shorter one rolled his eyes. You let out a giggle as they walked behind you, heading into the dressing rooms. You turned back to the redhead. “You’re not trying one on?”  
She shook her head. “I’ve already got my costume. I’m going to be their ghost.”  
You nodded in understanding. “A cool looking ghost or one of those blob things from the show?”  
It was her turn to giggle. “A cool looking ghost.”  
Though you weren’t attracted to men, you’d learned that flirting often led to customers buying more product. You would twirl your hair and smile sweetly, even leaning over the counter so your chest was accented. Teenage boys immediately dug for more money, calculating how much they could buy so they could take your advice.  
You weren’t sure if it worked on women, as it was harder to tell when a woman was into you, but you tried your luck anyway. “So what are you doing for Halloween?”  
“Going to a party,” she replied. “A friend of ours is hosting a huge Halloween bash.”  
You nodded. “Sounds like fun.” All you were planning to do was sit at home and marathon some horror movies. You’d completed a costume because you liked dressing up, but you were too old for trick-or-treating and you had no one to hang out with.  
She seemed to sense your lack of enthusiasm. “You should come.”  
You raised a brow. “Really? Inviting a total stranger to a Halloween party?”  
She shrugged. “You’re cute. Unless you have other plans…”  
A blush stained your cheeks at the compliment and you shook your head. “No plans. Not productive ones, anyway.”  
“Then you should come.” She dug into her pocket for a crumbled up piece of paper, stealing a pen off the counter. She quickly scribbled her name, number, and the address of the party before handing it to you.  
You read it over and smiled. “I’ll be there.”  
“Make sure you wear a costume,” she smirked.  
“I will,” you promised as the boys emerged from the dressing room. They handed you their costumes, which you folded and stuffed back into their proper packages. They took the bags and headed up to the front to pay for them, leaving the redhead a few feet behind.  
She winked at you before turning to leave. “Party starts at seven.”  
“See you then,” you replied, smiling to yourself.

A week later, it was Halloween night. You smiled at yourself in your full-length mirror, making sure your costume was in place. You had decided to be a mermaid. (1) You wore a teal sequin corset with a matching skirt that reached the floor. It had a slit up the right side and the bottom fanned out like fins. You’d made webby mermaid ear cuffs which were emerald green and sky blue and slipped comfortably over your ears. You twisted bead-adorned wire loosely around your forearms for elegant gauntlets. Your hair was sprinkled with green and blue glitter and loosely curled, a few strands pinned back from your face and a few curls falling in front of your shoulder. Using fishnet mesh, you created the effect of sky blue scales on your forehead and cheeks, with a light layer of green glitter. Your lips were a seafoam green and emerald green eye shadow accented your (e/c) eyes.  
You smiled to yourself. You would definitely be able to tell if that hot redhead was into you when you saw her reaction to your costume.

You arrived at the address and knocked on the door. An Asian boy about your age answered, looking you up and down before raising a questioning brow.  
“Who are you?” he asked.  
You checked the piece of paper for the redhead’s name. “Charlie invited me.”  
He nodded. “She told me about you. Come on in.”  
Your heart warmed at the thought that she talked about you. You stepped inside the bustling room, hoping you’d be able to find Charlie. You saw a vision in white, with flowing red hair. She was standing with the two men from the store, so you assumed it was her. You stepped closer, catching the attention of the two men. The taller one stared while the shorter one wolf whistled. Charlie turned around and grinned at you.  
“Hey,” she greeted. “You look hot.”  
“Thanks,” you blushed. “Uh… so do you.”  
She wore a skin-tight grey-white gown with shreds torn here and there. The sleeves reached her wrists and the skirt reached the floor. Her eyes had a sunken look, surrounded by black and grey eye shadow. Her lips were a deep red. Her hair had been teased to look messy, as though she’d been lying in a grave. She certainly looked like a ghost.  
“Oh, you were never introduced,” she realized. She gestured to the tall Ghostbuster first. “That’s Sam.”  
Sam offered a small wave and a smile.  
“And that’s Dean,” she said, pointing to the shorter one. Dean smirked and looked you up and down.  
They then left to find the open bar.  
“I’m glad you made it,” Charlie stated with a genuine smile.  
“Me too,” you decided. Your favorite song then came on through the speakers and you grinned.  
“Dance with me,” she requested, holding your hands. You nodded excitedly, intertwining your fingers and shaking your hips. She laughed at your enthusiasm and joined in, rocking along to the beat.  
Your jumping and dancing drew you closer together until you were just inches apart. You looked up at her as she was an inch taller than you. Your minds must have gone the same way as you both leaned in at the same time. She slid a hand into your curls, fisting her fingers in your (h/l) (h/c) locks. Your hands found her hips, pulling her against you. Her lips crashed against yours, both of your bodies ceasing their dancing. Her lips were smooth and silky and tasted like the apple martini she’d drank earlier. Your lips were intoxicating to her, tasting like the lollipop you’d eaten on your way to the party.  
You pulled back for air, smiling up at her. “I think I like you.”  
She grinned. “What a coincidence. I like you too.”  
She pulled you in for another kiss, swaying along to the slower song that had just begun playing.

 

(1) I was almost a mermaid this year. The description is basically how my costume was going to look, though the hair was different and I hadn’t decided on the clothes.


	3. Dean - All About That Bass

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean loves your chubbyness

**All About That Bass**  
A/N: So, obviously, this is inspired by the song. I finally heard the whole thing and it’s very inspiring. I personally think it would mean more being sung by a guy. Women call each other beautiful all the time and we always say “guys like thicker girls” but you never hear that come from a guy. So I think it’d be cool to have a guy sing a song about liking bigger girls. I don’t know if there is one, but I haven’t heard one. I also saw a post on Pinterest talking about how Dean would be the guy to date a bigger girl and tell her she’s beautiful and how he’d never make her feel bad, he’d just sit on the couch and eat pie with her. I thought it was true and very sweet and it gives girls hope.

You glared at your half-naked body in the mirror. You’d just gotten out of the shower and had put on a bra and panties. You’d been working out and trying to eat better, but it was hard to be healthy living on the road. Dean would always bring home your favorite pie or other dessert, and the only time you rejected it was when you were feeling bad about yourself, so he knew right away. You didn’t want to worry him, and he always said the same thing. You would complain about being fat, and he would say that he loved you.  
You loved that he never teased you or made you feel bad. If some thug in a bar commented on your jiggly thighs, Dean would deck the guy in the face. He always managed to make you feel better in the moment, but it never lasted. The next time you looked in the mirror or tried on new clothes, negative thoughts and emotions would bubble to the surface and you’d end up crying on the floor.

You let out a sigh and turned to the side. You mused that your extra fat gave you bigger boobs and a bigger butt, so that was nice. You didn’t think flat butts were very attractive. (1) You looked at the extra skin on your arms and legs and the pudge on your belly. Tears welled up in your eyes as a knock was heard on the other side of the bathroom door.  
“You almost ready, babe?” Dean called. “We’re gonna get some food before we go on the hunt.”  
Great. Another restaurant. Another chance to try and order the least fattening thing on the menu, only to have Sam and Dean send you sympathetic glances while keeping their mouths shut.  
They had both been very good to you. Sam was like a brother and Dean was the best boyfriend you could ask for. But good feelings didn’t last forever, especially when you’re a hunter. Demons loved playing on your insecurities, using them to lower your guard so they could attack. Every time you got hurt on a hunt, that was what happened. You were surprisingly fast for your size, so you never got left behind or moved too slow. But demons would look at you and assume you didn’t like your jiggles. They would tease and taunt until angry tears poured down your face and you were too busy trying to think of an argument to notice an attack.  
You would also be too embarrassed to tell Dean what happened, so when he was bandaging a cut or stitching a gash, you would shrug and say that you got distracted.

He noticed your behavior more than you thought. When you’d go for a walk or out to a restaurant, he’d catch your gaze staring into the reflective surface of the doors or windows, silently judging yourself. He would sigh inwardly, deciding to talk to you later. He rarely brought up the subject himself. He thought that pointing it out would make you think he didn’t like your body, which he very much did. He thought it best to wait until you were either too upset to hold it back or had calmed down enough to talk. He tried to avoid making you uncomfortable.  
At first, he couldn’t think of a single thing that would distract you enough to get hurt on a hunt. You were very skilled and very aware of your surroundings. What could sidetrack you so easily? But the way you went quiet and looked down at your lap, a blush on your cheeks as he tended your wounds, told him all he needed to know. Those bastards were playing with your emotions, and you were too ashamed of letting it get to you to tell him.

After the hunt, you all returned to the motel. Thankfully, it was a ghost, so there was no one to pick on your body or put you down. But since the moment you had stripped down for a shower that morning, you’d been off. It was a bad day. All you could think about was how Dean deserved someone who wasn’t constantly overpowered by insecurity.  
You returned to the bathroom, ignoring Dean’s calls stating that Sammy had brought home pie and (f/dessert). Dean instantly knew what was wrong and tried to get inside. Sam understood, too, so he sat on the bed and turned on the TV, pretending he wasn’t in the room so you didn’t feel any more embarrassed.  
Dean eventually picked the lock and let himself in. You were leaning against one wall, looking down at your booted feet. Tears flowed softly down your cheeks as your arms hung limply at your sides.  
“Babe…” he breathed softly, rushing to pull you into a hug. You buried your face into his shirt, soaking it with salty tears. His calloused fingers combed through your hair, gently untangling any knots formed during the hunt. “Do you wanna talk?”  
You sighed against his chest. “What’s there to talk about? We’ve been over it before. It’s nothing new.”  
“I suppose I have something to confess,” he said, causing you to look up at him. Your brows furrowed in worry and your heart raced. Was this it? Was he leaving? Was he finally done with your insecurities?  
He sensed your unease and pressed a loving kiss to your forehead. “Don’t worry, it’s nothing too bad. It’s just… I notice a lot more than you think I do.”  
“What do you mean?” you asked softly. He moved to sit on the floor, holding out a hand for you to join him. You complied, sitting beside him on the cold tile. He wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you into his lap. Your brow furrowed – weren’t you too heavy for that?  
“I’m a hunter,” he reminded as though reading your mind. “I’m stronger than most guys. I can even carry you.”  
You decided not to argue and rested your head on his chest.  
“You know how you rarely get hurt on hunts, but when you do it’s because you got distracted?” he began softly.  
You nodded against his chest.  
“I never pushed because I didn’t want to upset you or make you feel bad, but I know what distracted you. You get the same look in your eyes as you do during times like this. It’s the crestfallen look of self-loathing. I don’t know for sure, but I assumed that the monsters we were hunting were playing on your insecurities, making you feel bad about yourself enough that they could sneak up and attack.” He looked down at the top of your head. “How am I doing so far?”  
You nodded stiffly, embarrassed at being caught.  
“I also notice that you look at your reflection wherever we go. You look at yourself in windows and doors. You know you’re beautiful, right? There’s absolutely nothing wrong with your body. You know I love everything about you.”  
You nodded again, letting out a sigh. “I can’t help it, Dean. I know you love me, I really do. I just… I see thinner, prettier girls out there and I can’t help but wonder why you chose me over them, and I always fear that you’ll wake up one day and decide you don’t want me anymore.”  
“Baby,” he replied softly, squeezing you against him. “That’s never going to happen. I don’t want a Barbie doll. Those girls are so focused on their weight that they never eat or do anything except exercise. I want a girl that will eat a whole pie with me and then sit in bed and watch a movie. Do you think a skinny girl would do that?”  
You giggled softly and shook your head.  
“No, they wouldn’t,” he agreed. “I love you for who you are, (y/n). I like having so much woman to hold and cuddle.” He rested a hand on your thigh, squeezing it for emphasis.  
You looked up at him, nibbling your lower lip. “Thanks, Dean.”  
“Anything for you, baby,” he replied, leaning forward to claim your lips.  
The rest of the night was spent just as he said. You finished off the apple pie that Sam had brought home and watched your favorite movie on the TV.

 

(1) I’m not trying to be mean. The point is that all body types are beautiful, and many women, including myself, make themselves feel better by comparison. “My boobs are bigger than hers” or “my ass has a better shape than hers.” It’s not meant to downsize the other person, just to give yourself something to like about your own body. I check girls out all the time and I personally like shape.


	4. Cas - My Angel

**My Angel**  
Request for TheSilverScorpion  
A/N: This doesn’t follow any particular story line. It mentions Metatron but it’s not any specific season.  
"Can you do one with Castiel, where you are an angel gone human when one of Metatron's lackeys steals your grace? And then you both meet when Castiel is helping the brothers on a demon hunt, Castiel helps you get your grace back, and the standard "I love you" and such."

You awoke with a groan, trying to open your eyes. Wherever you were, the sun was far too bright. It felt as though someone was shining a flashlight directly at your eyes.  
Placing your hand on the surface beneath you, which you discovered to be concrete, you tried to push yourself up. With some struggling, you managed to get into a sitting position. You leaned back against a tree that you hadn’t known was there and looked around. You appeared to be in some kind of park. In the distance you could see plastic play toys and small children riding around on their bicycles while their parents socialized at the nearby picnic tables. You were several feet away from all that, in the middle of the forest area that separated the park from a river.  
Your brows furrowed in confusion as you tried to stand. Suddenly every muscle in your body- or, rather, your vessel’s body- ached terribly, and it hurt to move. Your feet felt like hot needles were poking into the soles, your legs were inexplicably tired, your back felt like you’d been hunched over for the last year, your head was pounding like thunder, and an unfamiliar rumble came from your abdomen.  
What in the world had happened to you?

“Sam, this is not a good idea,” Cas warned for the umpteenth time.  
“If you’re not going to help, go back to the bunker,” Sam snarled. Cas let out a sigh. His Winchesters could be so stubborn when they wanted something.  
The two of them were currently standing in the center of a crossroad. Well, Sam was in the center. Cas stood off to the side, half of him wanting to fly back and tell Dean and the other half wanting to stay and help Sam.  
Dean was dying. Again. And Sam was determined to save him, even though the older Winchester had refused profusely.  
So here the young moose was, standing in the middle of a crossroad, waiting for a demon to appear so he could make a deal. There was no guarantee that this plan would even work. Most demons were past making deals with the Winchesters. It never worked out well for the dark side.  
Some rustling came from the bushes to Sam’s left, and both he and Cas turned, expecting the demon. Cas tilted his head in surprise when you emerged instead.  
“Who are you?” Sam asked cautiously.  
“(y/n),” you replied, albeit uncertainly.  
“(y/n)?” Cas repeated in surprise.  
“Castiel?” you greeted with equal confusion.  
Sam turned to Cas. “You know her?”  
The brunette nodded. “She’s an angel. What are you doing here, (y/n)?”  
“Something’s wrong with me,” you said in a small, scared voice. “I think Metatron did something to me…”  
“Can you explain?” Sam asked.  
You nodded. “Everything hurts. Angels almost never get hurt. I feel tired and sore… and my vessel’s abdomen hurts.”  
Sam turned to Cas. “Sounds like you when you were human.”  
Cas nodded. “I think Metatron stole your grace. Have you tried to fly?”  
You nodded again. “I tried to sense you, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t sense anything. And I can’t fly anymore.”  
“Metatron definitely stole your grace,” he sighed. “He did it to me, too, but Sam and Dean helped me get it back.”  
“You’re not suggesting we help her too…?” Sam asked, looking at the angel.  
“She’s an angel, Sam. One of the good ones. I have to help her.”  
You smiled softly at his loyalty.  
Sam sighed. “Take her back to the bunker. Dean won’t like having another angel around.”  
Cas nodded and wrapped an arm around your waist. You didn’t understand the fluttery feeling in your belly, but you liked it.

“More angels, Cas?” Dean asked with an exasperated sigh.  
“She’s human right now,” Cas explained. “Metatron stole her grace too.”  
“Why?” Dean inquired.  
Cas turned to you for an answer.  
You shrugged. “I don’t know. He didn’t say. The last thing I remember was saying that I wanted to help Castiel, and then I woke up at the park.”  
Cas looked down with a guilty expression. “He’s punishing you for wanting to help me. I am sorry.”  
“I still want to help,” you specified. “I don’t care what Metatron tries to do to me.”  
He looked at you, emotional and broken. You could see how bad he felt that you got punished for being on his side. You didn’t know much about being human, but every fiber of your being told you to wrap your arms around him. Dean slipped away as you did, giving the two of you some privacy.  
He returned the gesture immediately, having been human himself and used to their emotions. His face buried in your shoulder as you absent-mindedly carded your fingers through his hair.  
“I’ll fix this,” he murmured into your shirt. “I promise, I’ll fix this.”

Cas kept that promise. He tracked down the superior angel and, with the help of the Winchesters, locked him in a room and tortured him. Metatron liked the passion in Cas’s eyes when he spoke badly of you, so every punch to the face was worth Cas’s anger. Sam and Dean finally wore him down enough to tell Cas where he hid your grace. Without a second thought, Cas was gone.

A week after he found you, he managed to find your grace. Sam and Dean had let you stay at the bunker, knowing that you were new to being human. Plus, Cas had practically begged them.  
You were seated at the dining room table eating a sandwich when Cas fluttered in. You found that sandwiches were quite enjoyable, and they had so many variations.  
“(y/n),” he greeted with a soft smile. Was it just you, or did he smile a lot whenever he saw you?  
“Hey, Cas,” you replied, swallowing down the last of your sandwich. “What are you doing?”  
“Sam and I found the spell to return your grace,” he explained.  
Your eyes lit up. “Really?”  
His heart warmed when he saw your excitement. “Are you ready?”

He got Sam to help him with the spell and within moments, you were back to your angelic self. (1) Cas’s usually light and happy expression now held sadness and disappointment.  
You were sitting alone with the angel in his room at the bunker.  
“You saved me, Cas,” you reminded him. “Why do you look so sad?”  
“You’re an angel again,” he pointed out. “Doesn’t that mean you want to go back to the other angels?”  
You smiled softly. “On the contrary… I was hoping I could stay with you.”  
He lifted his head to meet your gaze. “You what?”  
“I don’t know a lot about human emotions, but I know what I felt around you, Cas. I love you. I don’t want to leave. And I certainly don’t want to go back to the other angels.”  
A grin lit up his face as he wrapped his arms around your waist. “I love you too, (y/n).”  
You looked at him, your faces inches away. He leaned in and you gave into your leftover human desires, closing the gap. His lips melded softly against yours, spreading warmth through your chest. Your fingers tangled in the soft hairs on the back of his neck.  
He pulled away with a soft sigh. “I’m glad you’re staying.”  
You giggled softly. “Me too.”

 

(1) I missed some details in the later seasons so I don’t remember how Cas gets his grace back, so I’m saying there’s a spell for it.


	5. Sam - Elemental

**Elemental**  
Request for Makenna.exe wishes Happy 2016  
“If possible, could the female have elemental powers? If not all elements, just fire and ice. Anyway, the storyline would be that the brothers would find the female character being attacked by demons or anything else, and rescue her. When they find out about her powers, they help her become a hunter like them, and so on. After awhile, Sam falls for her, and confesses.”

You ducked a rather powerful blow, the demon’s arm flying over your head. You lowered into a half-split to keep away from his physical attacks. Standing to your full height, you raised a leg, knocking the demon in the nose with the heel of your boot. Without giving him time to recover, you raised a hand, palm out. An orange light glowed on your skin and a ball of fire formed in your hand. Adding a little more force, you shot the fire at the demon. The flames engulfed him, leaving him screaming in agony. It was a small fireball, so it took his life slowly. You watched as he crumbled to the ground, burning to ashes.  
Without missing a beat you turned on your heel and held up your other hand. The demon charged at you, quickly countered by the ice crystals shooting from your fingertips. They were small ice daggers, sharp enough to pierce through a wall. Several shards stabbed the demon’s chest, leaving no chance of survival. She let out a cry and fell backwards, going limp within minutes.  
An exhausted gasp escaped your lips and you fell to your knees. Using your powers always left you tired and breathless. You sat on the cold concrete and leaned against a wall. The demons had cornered you in an alley between a couple of abandoned buildings. At least you knew where you were.  
You stood and wiped the dirt from your jeans. You straightened your leather jacket and took a deep breath. Stepping around the dead body of the final demon, you turned the corner and headed down the sidewalk to your small apartment.

Demons were always after you. Ever since they’d seen your elemental abilities, Crowley constantly sent more lackeys after you, trying to capture you and bring you to his lair. You always fought them off and won, using fire or ice to finish them off. But every week he sent more. He wanted to keep you, to use you as an ally, or a weapon. You knew his intentions, and you wanted nothing to do with him. You weren’t on their side. Your powers had been with you since birth, and you’d spent your life learning how to control them. You didn’t want to hurt people. You just wanted to be left alone.  
Then you met the Winchesters.

Crowley sent another team of demons after you. This time, they were smart. They’d contracted a witch to brew up a couple of spells so they could deflect your elements. You hadn’t figured that out until you ran yourself dry trying to fight.  
You were falling to your knees on the cold hard ground. All of your energy was drained, wasted in futile attempts to freeze or flame the demons. They all grinned maniacally at you, closing in, surrounding you. You faded in and out of consciousness, eventually falling back on your butt, hands sitting limply on the cold pavement. You were about to fall asleep and let them take you when they began crying out. Your eyes were too heavy to open, but in your half-conscious state you could hear the sounds of a fight. Two male voices could be heard above all the commotion, but you didn’t recognize them. The heavy thud of bodies falling to the ground surrounded you, and you tried to manage a small smile. You didn’t know who your saviors were, but they’d come in the nick of time.  
“Sammy,” one of them called. You could faintly hear footsteps approaching. “I think she’s still alive.”  
“She’s not one of them,” the other one, with a lighter voice, stated.  
“Are you sure?” the first asked uncertainly.  
Sam nodded, though you couldn’t see it. “It looks like she was trying to fight them. She’s the victim.”  
“Crowley’s never sent that many demons after one target, not even us,” Dean mused. “I wonder what her deal is.”  
“We should take her back to the bunker,” Sam stated. “We won’t find out anything if we leave her in the streets. Maybe she can help us find Crowley.”  
You were lifted into strong, warm arms and carried away from the fight scene. You were gently laid in the backseat of a warm car with leather seats, and the low rumble of the car lulled you to complete sleep.

You awoke the next day in a strange bed, in a strange room. You sat up and looked around with a panic. Had the demons finally gotten you? Were you in Crowley’s lair?  
No, this room was too nice to be Hell. You had to be somewhere else.  
You vaguely recalled two men fighting the demons that had ambushed you. Perhaps they saved you and brought you here.  
Just as you were about to slip out of bed and investigate, the door opened, revealing a tall man with shaggy brown hair and a warm smile. “Morning,” he greeted.  
“How long was I out?” you asked, watching as he set down a tray of food on the bedside table. Your mouth watered and your stomach rumbled loudly at the arrangement of biscuits, yogurt, bacon, and pancakes, accompanied by a steaming mug of coffee and foggy glass of orange juice.  
“Just overnight,” he replied with a small shrug. “This is yours. We thought you might be hungry. You looked exhausted when we saved you.”  
“Thanks for that,” you mumbled, picking up a biscuit. “Really. They were stronger than I’m used to. I didn’t think I was going to make it.”  
“If I may ask,” he began, sitting on the bed, “why were they after you? They were pretty powerful. Crowley never sends his most powerful into the open like that.”  
You let out a sigh. “You’ll think I’m a freak.”  
“Try me,” he replied with a slight smirk.  
You set the biscuit back down and held your hands in your lap. “I can create and control fire and ice. It’s how I’ve gotten by. Crowley found out and decided he wanted to keep me as his pet, so every week or so he sends out a group of demons to attack me. I’ve been able to stop them so far, but that group must have been special. They resisted all of my powers.”  
“That explains why you look so tired,” he mused with a nod. “Using any kind of magic, natural or otherwise, can drain a person’s energy.”  
You nodded in agreement. “I thought that maybe just the first one was immune, so I tried my powers on all of them. A stupid idea, really. I had no energy left.”  
“It’s a good thing we showed up, then,” Sam mused.  
“You keep saying ‘we’…” you noticed. “Who are you guys?”  
“My name is Sam,” he replied, offering a hand for you to shake. “I hunt monsters with my brother Dean.”  
“Sam and Dean… Winchester?”  
He nodded. “You’ve heard of us.”  
“Anyone who knows anything about demons has heard of you,” you teased. “The demons attacking me have mentioned you before. Said they were surprised I was so important, because ‘even the Winchesters didn’t get this much attention from Crowley’.”  
He chuckled softly. “You are certainly special. I can see that.”  
A light blush dusted your cheeks at the compliment.  
“We have to keep you safe,” he decided.  
“And how are you going to do that?” you asked.  
“We’ll keep you here. If you want, of course. The bunker has plenty of spare rooms, and we can teach you all we know about hunting demons.”  
You mulled it over, nibbling your lower lip in thought. You gave a small nod. “I’d like that.”

Over the next few months, you trained with the boys every day. It ended up being more Sam than Dean, because Sam offered more. Dean would simply smile and shake his head as though laughing at an inside joke that you weren’t in on. He was nice enough, and you enjoyed spending time with Sam, so you never complained.  
He was currently teaching you hand-to-hand combat.  
“In case of fire and ice-proof demons,” he explained, holding his fists up, “you’ll need to know basic fighting. We’ve already done weapons training, so you’ll be good to go as long as you have a blade. But if you lose your weapon somehow, you’ll need another backup.”  
The first week you were there, you showed him your powers, and he ran experiments. After that, it was mostly weapons. Guns and blades, and he taught you the exorcism chant. Dean showed you how to make a Devil’s Trap and you began keeping a bottle of rock salt in your purse.  
Sam lunged at you like a demon trying to attack, and you used your height difference to duck. You rolled into his leg and tripped him, causing him to land on his face on the mat. He stood up in surprise before smiling at you.  
“Very good,” he nodded. You smiled in thanks. He lunged at you again, this time keeping low, so you couldn’t roll under him. You tried to dodge to the side, but his long arm stopped your attempts. He grabbed you too hard, so you went tumbling down with him when he tripped over the edge of the mat. You landed on your back, looking up at the handsome hunter with a blush on your cheeks.  
He chuckled as he looked down at you before a different emotion filled his eyes. His hands rested on either side of your head while yours reached up to card through his silky hair. Ever since you met, you’d wanted to play with his hair. He seemed to agree with your decision, his eyes closing as he leaned into your touch. You used the contact to bring his face closer to yours, only stopping when your lips were inches apart. Without thinking, he closed the gap, eliciting a gasp from your lips. It soon turned into a sigh as you used your hands in his hair to pull him closer. He groaned against your lips, showing no sign that he wanted to pull away. You let one hand travel down his face and neck, running softly over his muscled chest.  
He pulled away for air, looking down at you with panting breaths. You smiled up at him.  
“I’ve wanted to do that since we met,” he whispered huskily.  
“So have I,” you admitted, bringing his lips back down to yours.


	6. Sam - Memories

**Memories**  
Request for Ushiwana doll  
A/N: As I stated, I don’t do character death, at least not officially. So you’re not dead, you’re in the hospital.  
“You should do one with either brother where the reader gets killed during a hunt and its their last moments together, and they sort of talk about their best moments together (flashbacks?)”

 

You were in critical condition. The internal bleeding was immense and you had several broken bones and fractures. You couldn’t move much of your body, save for light talking and turning your head. You were in a full body cast and you’d already had three surgeries. You needed blood, but no one you knew shared your type.  
Sam was by your side every second. On the rare occasion he left for food or the restroom, he had Dean take his place, not wanting to miss a moment in case you woke up. He was terrified beyond belief at what the doctors were telling him. No one thought you would make it.  
Sam sat beside you, gently clutching your bandaged hand. His heart broke to see all of the gauze and plaster covering your limbs. And it had been his fault.

_The werewolves were closing in. There were far more than anticipated. They ridiculously outnumbered the three of you. You all stood close together, ready to have each other’s backs, but the wolves had other ideas. They all lunged together, knocking you all down at once so you couldn’t even save yourselves, much less each other.  
Sam and Dean had more experience in hunting werewolves than you did, so they managed to hold their own. You were equipped with silver daggers and two handguns loaded with silver bullets, but they were useless right now. The daggers had been tossed away from you, having flown from your hand when you were tackled. Your arms were held down by heavy paws and sharp teeth, preventing you from reaching either gun.  
A third werewolf wrapped its jaws around your torso, lifting your nearly unconscious body from the ground. Sam turned around just in time to see you get thrown against a tree, effectively cracking most of your ribs. Several bones in your hands and arms were broken from being held down, and a werewolf had just bitten into your leg when Dean shot it. Sam rushed over, carefully lifting you into his arms.  
“Dean…” he said simply; brokenly. Dean looked between his brother and your limp body and nodded, running back to the Impala and helping Sam lay you down in the backseat._

He was brought back from the tormenting memory by you subtly squeezing his hand. He looked up at you with hope in his eyes. He wasn’t sure whether to be excited that you were awake or scared that you wouldn’t remain that way.  
“Do you ‘member,” you gasped for air, “how we first met?”  
He smiled softly and nodded. “I’ll never forget.”

_After another successful hunt, the brothers decided to find a bar to celebrate. It was more for Dean than Sam. The older Winchester loved to party, especially if girls and booze were involved. The younger didn’t much care for one night stands, instead only going to keep an eye on his brother.  
Sam couldn’t take his eyes off the beautiful girl seated at the bar. Her (h/l) (h/c) hair shone in the dim light, and she had the most beautiful smile he’d ever seen. Without thinking, he walked towards her, sitting beside her.  
You looked him up and down as he sat next to you. He was certainly attractive, but was he worth it? You looked around, curious about the other guy he’d come in with. Your stomach churned at the sight of him slobbering all over some bimbo he’d only just met. Shaking your head, you turned back to the bar.  
“Is that guy your brother or something?” you asked.  
He followed your gaze and nodded. “Yeah, he is.”  
“He’s got no morals,” you stated, downing the rest of your drink.  
He chuckled. “No, not really.”  
“What about you?” you asked.  
“What about me?” he replied, confused.  
“You got morals?”  
Glancing back at his brother, Sam replied, “More than he does.”  
You smiled. “I’m (y/n).”  
“Sam,” he returned.  
You opened your mouth to reply when a rough hand found your thigh. You turned your head to see some drunk leaning in way too close for comfort.  
“Hey pretty lady,” he slurred. “How about a kiss?”  
You bit back a gag and removed his hand. “I think not.”  
Offended by your rejection, he grabbed your arm. “Maybe I wasn’t asking.”  
Sam stood, ready to interfere, but you got to it first.  
“I’m not interested,” you growled, raising your hand and throwing a punch straight at his nose. He staggered backwards, reaching up to feel blood spilling from his face.  
“You bitch,” he growled before crawling away.  
Shaking your hand, you sat back down at the bar. You turned your attention back to the attractive brunette. “Where were we?”_

“You’re going to make it out of this,” Sam promised.  
“That’s what you always say,” you reminded with a cough.  
“Do you remember our first date?” he asked, trying to bring a smile to your face.  
You blushed lightly beneath all of your cuts and scars, managing a small nod.

_Sam had bravely asked for your number that night at the bar, and you programmed it directly into his phone. A few days later, he called. You agreed to a date immediately.  
You only lived a few blocks away from the hotel they were staying at, so he walked over to pick you up. He had said to dress casual, so you chose a short-sleeve button down blouse with dark wash skinny jeans and simple flats.  
“You look beautiful,” he complimented, earning a blush on your face.  
“Thanks,” you replied. “So where are we going?” You saw that he held a small cooler in one hand.  
“It’s a surprise,” he smiled.  
He led you a few more blocks down the road to a small park. It was after dark, so the park was empty. He exhibited the small cooler and set it down on the cool grass before sitting down himself. He looked up at you, waiting for you to join him.  
“Picnic in the park, huh?” you stated, smiling softly.  
“I thought it would be more peaceful than that bar,” he returned. You giggled softly as he pulled out various snacks and drinks from the cooler. He pulled out a bottle of champagne and a container of strawberries, which you opened and began snacking on as he produced the rest of the food.  
The night went by peacefully, and by the end, you were leaning against Sam with your head on his shoulder and his arm around your waist. He pressed a gentle kiss to your head and looked up at the stars._

“Do you ‘member how you proposed?” you teased.  
He blushed and nodded, gently kissing your knuckles.

_You were in the middle of a vamp fight, all three of you covered in blood. Whose blood was the question, and you weren’t sure you wanted to know the answer.  
You swung your machete, decapitating another vamp. This one hunt was really racking up the numbers in your kill count. You’d found a nest of a couple dozen vamps, and they hadn’t been too happy when the three of you crashed the party.  
You killed the last one, blood spatters littering your skin and clothes. You were sure there was some in your hair, too. You turned to the boys with a grin on your lips. “We got them.”  
“Marry me,” Sam blurted.  
You and Dean froze. “What?” you asked.  
“Marry me,” Sam repeated, moving to stand before you. He knelt down, holding your hands, ignoring the stench of dead vamp and the amount of blood between you. “This isn’t how I planned on doing it but I can’t wait any longer. Marry me.”  
You let out a breathy laugh and nodded. “Yes. Of course I’ll marry you!”  
He held you close and Dean clapped, proud of his brother._

“Mr. Winchester?” the nurse called from the doorway. “Can I speak with you?”  
Worry clouded Sam’s eyes as he reluctantly left your side. He stood out in the hallway with the nurse. “What is it?”  
“This young woman has offered to donate,” the nurse replied, gesturing to a redhead sitting in the waiting room beside Dean. “Her blood type matches.”  
Sam turned to find a smiling Charlie clasping her hands together. “Hey, Sam.”  
“Charlie?” he greeted in surprise. “You’re going to donate blood?”  
“I can’t just let your fiancé die, now, can I?” she smiled.

A couple of months later, your injuries fully healed, and you were able to go home. With Dean as the best man and Charlie as your maid of honor, you and Sam had your dream wedding.


	7. Dean - Knock Me Out

**Knock Me Out**  
Request for Miriam Thordottir  
“The reader faints.”

Everybody handled stress differently. Many people ate during times of great stress. Some people meditated or listened to soothing music. More athletic folks liked to go for a jog, and those with a temperament liked to go at it with a punching bag.  
You under ate.  
It wasn’t intentional. When you got too stressed, a million knots formed in your stomach, and if you tried to eat anything, you would immediately throw it up. Stress would mingle with nerves and anxiety and turn you into a shivering, starving mess.  
That was why you usually hung back when the boys went on a hunt. You would wait at the hotel and do some more research, only bothering the boys when you found something particularly useful. When your research ran out and you had nothing else to do, you would put on a movie and take a nap. During the few days at a time that the boys would be working on a hunt, you would hardly eat, constantly worrying for their safety and focusing all your energy on trying to help them from the base.

They had a particularly nasty vamp hunt coming up. They’d located a nest which was home to a couple dozen blood-suckers, and your nerves had been flip-flopping all over the place. You could barely sit still with how nervous and scared you were for your boys.  
They, of course, were perfectly fine. Not worried in the least. But you had actually lost weight from the amount of stress you’d been under.  
The boys never observed your eating habits. Whenever your nerves kicked in and kept you from eating, they were hunting, so they weren’t around to see it. When they were home and having dinner with you, you were calm and no longer stressed, so there wasn’t an issue.

There was one major downside to your stress-not eating. When you went too long without sustenance, you became weak and faint. You would eat as soon as the boys came home safe, and you wondered if they thought it weird that you would stuff your face after every hunt, but they never mentioned it.  
They came home early one night, planning to surprise you. You were worried fanatically about them, sitting on your bed and watching Netflix on your laptop. You panicked when the door opened on its own, reaching for the gun on your nightstand. You jumped off the bed and aimed the gun at the intruder, letting out a surprised sigh when you saw Sam saunter in.  
“Woah,” he greeted, holding his hands up in surrender. “Easy.”  
“Why didn’t you tell me you were coming back early?” you asked, dropping the gun. “I thought you were coming back tomorrow.”  
“We finished early,” he replied simply. Dean followed and set his bags down inside before closing the door.  
You moved to hug them, but eating nothing but an apple here and there for two days was getting to you. You took a step forward and the room began to spin, fading to darkness. You knees gave out beneath you and you crumpled to the floor, much to the concern of the boys.  
“(y/n)!” Dean yelled, crossing the room in two large strides to reach you. He caught you just as you were about to hit the floor and cradled you in his arms. He looked up at Sam with a questioning expression.  
Sam shrugged and shook his head. “I have no idea, Dean.”  
The older Winchester picked you up and cringed at how light you were. “I don’t think she’s been eating,” he stated as he laid you down on the bed.  
“What makes you say that?” Sam asked.  
“Look at her,” Dean replied, lifting up your arm. “She hardly weighs anything. Have you noticed how she can eat an entire kitchen as soon as we come back from a hunt? What if she doesn’t eat while we’re gone?”  
“Why wouldn’t she?” the younger asked, concerned at how thin you were.  
“I’ve heard of it before,” Dean explained, looking at you sadly. “Some people can’t eat when they’re stressed. What if she gets so worried about us that she doesn’t eat while we’re gone?”  
Sam nodded. “It makes sense. It could be possible. We’ll have to ask when she wakes up.”  
A few moments later, you did so. You looked around in confusion and looked at Dean who was staring down at you in concern. You realized what had happened and blushed, knowing that you’d have to tell them.  
“Are you alright?” he asked.  
You nodded as you sat up. Your stomach rumbled loudly and Sam handed you a granola bar. You unwrapped it under Dean’s gaze, quickly stuffing it into your mouth.  
“What happened?” the young brunette asked.  
“You know how some girls overeat when they’re stressed or nervous?” you began. They nodded in understanding.  
“Well… I can’t eat. If I try to eat when I’m stressed, I throw it up. You guys mean a lot to me and I know you’re capable hunters but I still worry when you leave for days at a time. So… I usually spend that time panicking and therefore not eating…”  
“We have to come up with a better system,” Dean said. “What if we have to leave for an entire week? You can’t just not eat.”  
“I don’t know what to do about it,” you replied brokenly. “I’ve tried. There’s nothing I can eat when I get too worried.”  
“Are there pills?” Sam asked. “Something that will lessen your nerves enough for you to eat?”  
You shrugged. “I haven’t found any.”  
Sam saw how close Dean was sitting and took it as his cue to leave. “I’m gonna go get us some food.” With that, he slipped out of the motel room.  
Dean scooted closer and took your hands in his, causing your blush to deepen. “If I knew… I wouldn’t have left you alone so much. I would have found a way to help. I still will.”  
“I’m sorry,” you whispered, embarrassed. “I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want to worry you.”  
He pressed a kiss to your forehead. “You mean so much to me, (y/n). You need to take care of yourself.”  
You stared up at him, seeing a whole different kind of affection in his eyes. Taking a chance, you leaned forward, pecking his lips softly. He looked at you in surprise before wrapping his arms around your waist and leaning in, claiming your lips with more passion. You let out a soft sigh and wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer.  
“Promise me you’ll take care of yourself,” he whispered against your lips, between kisses.  
“If you promise to be careful,” you countered, resting a hand on his cheek.  
“Deal,” he smiled, moving so that he was lying down and bringing you down beside him.


	8. Cas - Gabrielle

**Gabrielle**  
Request for Pixelized Sailor  
A/N: Co-written by TheSilverScorpion.  
The romance isn’t very strong, because the original request didn’t have any.  
“Would you be able to write one where the reader is deans twin sis and she's the vessel for Gabriel and the boys don't see her for a while but when they do they discover she said yes to stop the fighting. Maybe a little romance between the reader and cas cause he can tell as soon as he sees her?”

Your life had always been one monster after the next. Growing up in a family of hunters was never easy for you, but even after your father had died, your twin brother and little brother always had your back through thick in thin. They were always there for you to count on, and you were always there for them. So when you all found out that Sam was Lucifer's vessel, and Dean was Michael’s, you all did whatever you could to stay with each other and never give in.  
The idea of your brothers being vessels to archangels intrigued, confused, and terrified you in equal measure. What did that even mean? From what little about angels you’d learned from Castiel, the original person is eventually pushed out. The human body can only contain one soul, and if the angel occupies the body long enough, the pre-existing soul just dies. You didn’t want that to happen to your brothers. They would still look like Sam and Dean, but you knew it would never be the same, especially with one of them being Satan himself.

Shortly after meeting Cas, you began developing feelings for the angel. You constantly pushed it aside, reminding yourself that he was a celestial being and you were merely a human. Plus, he was the one angel who didn’t seem to have any understanding of human tendencies or emotions, so he wouldn’t know what you having a crush on him meant, anyway. (1)  
Still, he was attractive and sweet, and he always made sure you were okay. You figured he was simply carrying out your brothers’ wishes of letting no harm come to you when you stayed home from a hunt. You didn’t stay home very often, as you’d proven multiple times that you were a skilled hunter – you’d even saved their lives once or twice. But if they had multiple hunts in a row, sometimes you needed a day to relax. You were a Winchester, and you were raised for this, but you were also smaller than them, and sometimes the physical exertion was too much on you.

You and Castiel were the best of friends, though you were careful to hide your feelings. You were inseparable and always there for each other, but unbeknownst to you, Casl always seemed to feel something strange when he was with you.  
He asked Dean about it, and the answer he got was unexpected.  
"From what it sounds like," Dean said, "you're in love with my sister."

This was only days before you found out from Zachariah that you were meant to be Gabriel's vessel.  
You wanted to scream and cry and run all at the same time. You didn't want to be anybody's vessel, to leave your soul to rot away inside your own body.  
The first person you told was Cas, since he would know more about it.  
He pulled you into his arms as you looked like you were about to cry. "I'm sorry," he whispered with genuine sympathy. "I swear I had no idea."  
It felt so good to be wrapped up in his arms, and for a moment you forgot that you were only friends. You buried your face in his shoulder, holding him close.

“What are we going to do?” Sam asked when he and Dean were informed.  
“We say no,” Dean replied simply. “We’ve done it before. We both said no to Michael and Lucifer.”  
“Yeah,” Sam agreed, “and they started the apocalypse.”  
Dean sighed. “Well we can’t just give her up. She’s our sister. And you know how Cas feels.”  
“How Cas feels about what?” you asked. Dean cursed under his breath, forgetting that you and Cas were still in the room. You looked to the angel who had a light blush on his cheeks.  
“How I feel about you,” he said softly, looking down at his shoes.  
“And how is that?” you asked, all of your attention on him.  
“He’s in love with you,” Dean stated, wanting to move on. “And you’re in love with him. Just be together, already.”

And that was what you did. You and Castiel became a couple, and for a while, he made you forget about the impending doom that was become an angel’s vessel. You never thought of Cas as being a celestial being inhabiting someone else’s body. You never thought of it as Jimmy Novak being possessed. When you looked at him, you saw Castiel, in all of his innocent, naïve glory. You forgot that he was a powerful angel. All you cared about was how he treated you, which was with kindness and love.  
Your first date consisted of stargazing one night on the roof of the bunker. He wrapped his arms around your waist and flew you up so you wouldn’t hurt yourself climbing. You brought a couple of blankets to lie on and cuddle under. He lied on his back with his arm acting as your surrogate pillow. You snuggled into his side, your head resting where his shoulder connected to his arm, your own arm draped over his stomach.  
It was peaceful and comforting, and for that night, all that mattered was you being with him.

A week later, Zachariah and Gabriel appeared, unannounced and uninvited. Gabriel wasn’t that bad, and you figured that, of all the angels that would be destined to possess you, you were glad it was the fun-loving trickster instead of someone awful like Zachariah. But that didn’t make you any more willing to say yes.  
“It’s time, (y/n),” Zach stated with authority.  
“I never agreed,” you reminded, spite dripping from your words.  
He rolled his eyes. “You don’t have a choice. You are destined to be Gabriel’s vessel, just as Dean is destined to be Michael’s and Sam is destined to be Lucifer’s.”  
“What if I say no?” you countered. “You can’t take someone by force like a demon. You need permission. I can just keep saying no and you can’t do anything about it.”  
Gabe let out a sigh at your stubbornness. You’d grown to be something close to friends, and he didn’t want to hurt you.  
Zach shrugged. “Then we’ll kill Castiel and you’ll have to live without your boyfriend.”  
A gasp left your lips as you turned to Cas. He nodded grimly, knowing that Zach could and would kill him.  
You turned back to Zach. “You’re a monster.”  
“I’m an angel,” he corrected.  
You let out a sigh. “Let me say goodbye first.”  
You hugged both of your brothers, knowing you wouldn’t be seeing much of them while you were playing host to an archangel. You then turned to Cas, throwing your arms around him. He held you softly, not wanting to let go but not wanting to make it harder on you. He pulled away just enough to kiss you lovingly, which Gabe and Zach turned away from.  
“Fine,” you said, letting Cas go. “I agree.”  
Zach smiled smugly. “Good choice, (y/n).”  
Gabriel thanked you for agreeing before his angel essence escaped from the body he was occupying. Said body dropped lifelessly to the ground, its original soul having died a long time ago. His angelic soul invaded your vessel, casting a blinding light over the room. When it faded, you turned to Cas.  
“See you later, little brother.”

 

(1) I’ve always thought it was interesting that Cas is the only angel who doesn’t understand humans at all, until Metatron puts a bunch of pop culture knowledge in his head.


	9. Dean - Childhood Sweetheart

**Childhood Sweetheart**  
Request for Random  
“I was hoping it could be that when they were really going kids dean and her met she was like deans best friend and was the longest they'd ever stayed in one place but they had to leave so dean stayed in contact over the phone but then found out she was killed, or so he thinks, by a demon and he has never forgiven himself.?”

You let out a sigh and leaned against the wall of the abandoned building you were hiding in. You’d already doused every entrance with salt – no demons were getting in.  
Panting for breath- because tracking and killing a dozen demons in one night was exhausting- you pulled a small folded piece of paper from inside your shirt. It was dangerous to keep personal items on your person, especially with all of the physical movement involved in hunting, but you didn’t have the heart to not carry this picture with you.  
It was from your childhood. You were twelve, and the boys on either side of you were ten and fourteen. You had a crush on the older one ever since you met when you were five, but you never said anything. You thought it was just a meaningless kid’s crush; that it would go away in time, but it never did.

_They were staying with their Uncle Bobby for a few days, and you were the neighbor’s daughter. Sam, the younger, took a liking to you right away. But Dean seemed distant and unfriendly. Sam insisted that he was just grumpy about moving again. He explained that the two of them never stayed in one place for long. When you asked why, he told you it was about his dad’s job. A travelling salesman, or something. “Travel” was in the name, so they never got to stay anywhere very long. You thought it sad, for multiple reasons, but when you expressed this opinion, Sam simply smiled, albeit sadly, and said that it was okay and that they were used to it.  
You tried to get closer to Dean. Sam was a nice friend, but the older brother’s emerald eyes enticed you, especially as you got older. You weren’t old enough for boys, but you couldn’t help the butterflies floating around in your belly when the older brother looked at you.  
Knowing of your friendship with Sam, Bobby would often invite you over for dinner or to just hang out with the boys. Your mom never minded, having a good relationship with Bobby and liking the fact that you were making nice friends.  
Your crush on the older brother only deepened as time went on. A few days turned into a few weeks, a few weeks turned into a few months, and a few months turned into seven years. By then, Dean was your best friend. He was still cautious, worried that just because they’d stayed this long, it didn’t mean they’d stay longer. But he’d given up on pushing you away, especially since you were constantly around, hanging out with Sam.  
When the day finally came, you were at Bobby’s. Bobby preferred to let the boys be boys instead of teaching them how to use guns, so he bought a Super Nintendo and Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles Street Fighter. You would spend hours kicking the boys’ butts, your Raphael always killing their Mikey and Leo.  
You were too lost in the fight to care about the low rumble of a car pulling up outside, but the boys new that sound. Their excitement diminished instantly, and you paused the game, wondering what the problem was. Bobby seemed crestfallen too, and you began to worry. Was there a bad man outside?  
You followed as the boys stood up and headed for the door. You lingered in the back when Bobby answered it, revealing a middle-aged man with stubble and a leather jacket.  
“Hey boys,” he greeted with a tired smile. But nobody returned the gesture. Instead, they glared at the man like he was Satan himself.  
“John,” Bobby greeted monotone. “What brings you by?”  
“I told you I’d be back for the boys,” he replied as though it were obvious.  
“Seven years ago, John,” Bobby reminded. You figured that this man must be their “travelling salesman” father. John turned to look at the boys, though he didn’t seem surprised when they weren’t happy to see him. He then looked at you and raised a brow.  
“Who’s your friend?”  
“That’s (y/n),” Dean replied, moving to stand beside you. He draped an arm over your shoulders, almost protectively, like he didn’t want his dad to come closer.  
“Hi, (y/n),” John greeted, offering a hand. “John Winchester.”  
You shook it silently, wanting to be polite but not knowing what to say. You could see from the look in Bobby’s eyes that he didn’t want you to be part of whatever was going on.  
“I should head home,” you said quietly, and Bobby nodded. He walked you outside and down the sidewalk to your house, smiling sadly before he turned and walked away._

That was the last time you’d seen the Winchesters. For the next eight years, you two kept in touch. He called you every weekend, and you excitedly awaited the call. But after those eight years, the calls became few and far between, until there were none. It hurt deeply, but you figured he was just busy. He’d grown up, after all. You were in your twenties now, and you wondered what had become of your boys.

“Dean, you haven’t seen her in over a decade,” Sam reasoned as Dean frantically packed a bag.  
“So?” the older brother countered.  
“So, who knows if she even remembers us? We were kids.”  
“We kept in touch,” Dean said softly.  
“Do you still?” Sam asked.  
“Not since you went to school,” the older sighed.  
“Why when I went to school?” the younger wondered.  
“Dad needed me more. There were only two of us, so I had to do a lot more hunting. I didn’t have time…”  
“Dean, I know how badly you miss her. Maybe the demon knows that too. He could be lying. He may not even know where she is.”  
Dean stared long and hard at his brother. “I have to try. If there’s a chance to see her again, even one last time… I have to try.”

Dean drove faster than normal, eager to get to you. One of Azazel’s demon minions had told him he found your dead body, stabbed by Azazel himself. The boys didn’t know if it was true, but Dean wasn’t about to walk away. He missed you, and if he got to see you again, even just to bury you… He was going to.  
He found the abandoned building the demon had told him about and stepped out of the car. He looked around, expecting an ambush. He raised a brow at Sam when it was eerily quiet. They both grabbed rock salt guns and flasks of holy water from the trunk and headed inside.  
Everywhere they turned, there was another body, but none of them were yours. Looking closer, Dean realized they were all demons. Who was killing them, if they were after you? Was another hunter already on this case? What business did someone else have, coming after you?

You were still relaxing against the wall when you heard footsteps. You scrambled to your feet and hid around the corner, expecting more demons. But you’d lined every entrance with salt. How would they have gotten in?  
The boys were impressed by the salt lines. Whoever was taking out these demons knew what they were doing. They turned the corner only to have a gun to the face.  
“Who are you, and what are you doing here?” you asked with a growl, trying to be intimidating.  
Your (h/l) (h/c) hair was a dead giveaway, and all Dean could do was stare. “(y/n)?”  
You lowered your gun and stared at the man before you. How did he… You looked into his eyes, those familiar emerald orbs. “Dean?”  
You then looked to the much taller man behind him. “Sam?”  
Sam smiled. “Hey, (y/n).”  
You threw your arms around Dean in a hug full of emotion. “I never thought I’d see you boys again.”  
“We thought that, too,” Sam replied.  
“What are you doing here?” you asked. “Is this part of your travelling? Exploring abandoned buildings?”  
“What are you doing here?” Dean countered. “Don’t you know there are dead bodies everywhere? What if you’re next?”  
“I won’t be next,” you replied with a shrug. “I killed those monsters.”  
“So you… you know about demons?” Sam stated, surprised.  
You nodded, realizing that it had never been a topic of discussion. “Why? Is that weird?” You let out a gasp. “Travelling salesman… You’re hunters too!”  
Dean chuckled at your realization. “Yeah. We’ve always been hunters.”  
“I told you the demon lied,” Sam said, nudging Dean’s side.  
“What demon?” you asked. “Lied about what?”  
“We’re actually here looking for you,” Dean explained. “One of Azazel’s minions told us that you were dead.”  
You gagged. “Azazel. I hate him. His minions are the dead bodies you saw walking in. I guess that explains why they were after me. They wanted to get to you.”  
Sam decided to continue through the house, making sure no more demons had come in for a surprise attack. That left you alone with the older Winchester.  
Said older brother dragged you into another hug, burying his face in your shoulder. His arms tightly held your back as though he were afraid you were just a dream.  
“Dean?” you said unsurely. You’d missed him, and you’d always wanted to be this close, but something about his behavior was throwing you off.  
“I thought you were dead…” he whispered. “I thought you were dead and I didn’t even get to say goodbye… Or to tell you…”  
“Tell me what?” you asked quietly, placing a hand on his face in an attempt to remove it from your shoulder. You looked into his sad emerald eyes with concern. “Tell me what?”  
Instead of replying, he pulled you close and crashed his lips to yours. They were soft yet chapped, and very warm. Sparks ignited inside your mind as you returned the kiss, losing yourself in his arms. You’d dreamed of this day since you were twelve, but you thought it was a lost cause.  
Your arms wound around his neck, your fingers playing with the short hairs on the back of his neck. His hands rested on your hips, his fingers digging into the skin beneath the hem of your shirt. When he nibbled your lower lip, you pulled back for air.  
“I’ve wanted to do that since I was fourteen,” he admitted huskily.  
“I’ve wanted you to do that since I was twelve,” you replied with a grin.  
“Come with us,” he said, though it was more of a demand than a request.  
“What about your dad?” you asked.  
“He’s… not around…”  
You took the hint and nodded sadly. “I’m sorry.”  
He shook his head, looking up at you with the best puppy eyes he could manage. “Come with us?”  
You smiled and pecked his lips again. “Of course.”


	10. Dean - Waking the Demon

**Waking the Demon**  
Request for Shri Quinn  
“Maybe Demon!Dean said something to the reader about a trait they thought Dean loved and makes crude jokes/remarks about it. When Dean returns as a human though, she curses him out and he apologizes profusely maybe even starts demeaning himself (typical Dean fashion...I think?) and they make up in a fluffy kinda way?”

You let out a sigh as you looked in the mirror, your eyes immediately finding the pale white scar that went across your right shoulder. It was a torture mark from a year back when you’d gotten kidnapped by a demon trying to find any leverage he could against the boys. They got you out, but not without a few wounds and a traumatizing memory.  
You hated that scar. It reminded you of being tied to a chair and treated like the demon’s personal pet. He did what he pleased to you, which mostly involved cutting and burning your skin. You hated that you had gotten caught so easily, though the boys never got upset at you for it. Still, the whole thing made you feel rather useless.  
You were still staring at the scar when Dean came in to check on you. He wrapped his arms around you from behind. You stood there in your bra and pajama pants, getting ready for bed. You’d never been shy around the older Winchester, so his coming in didn’t bother you in the least.  
“It means nothing,” he murmured, resting his head on your shoulder and looking at your reflection. He knew what you were looking at.  
“It means I got caught,” you corrected.  
“It means the demons were smart, and they knew my greatest weakness,” he replied, using his hands on your hips to turn you around to face him. “It doesn’t make you any less of a hunter, and it doesn’t change how I feel about you.”  
You smiled softly, standing on your toes to press a kiss to his lips. He handed you one of his T-shirts which you slipped over your head with a smirk. You loved wearing his clothes, and he loved to see you wearing them.  
You followed him out of the bathroom and onto his bed, which you were sharing. Sam was already asleep, so you had control over the TV. Dean flipped through the channels and found your favorite, setting the remote aside and lying back against the pillows. You snuggled into his side, resting your head on his chest, your scar forgotten for the time being.

Two weeks later, you were a mess.  
Dean had died and become a demon, and you weren’t sure how to deal with it. Initially, he still acted like Dean. But soon after, you realized that it wasn’t your Dean anymore.  
You and Sam thought Dean was gone. You found his dead body on the side of the road, having been hit by a car. You didn’t see anyone else around, so you and Sam set him in the backseat of Baby and drove back to the bunker. It was weird, lugging around a dead body, but neither of you had the heart to let him go. At the very least, he deserved a hunter’s funeral.  
You were overjoyed when he woke up a few days later, clearly not dead. Sam was cautious, and you were both confused, but you didn’t care. Dean was back.  
The day after he woke up, he was different. It was like someone had flipped a switch and turned on “Emotionless Mode.” He didn’t say nice things. He seemed to say the first thing that came to mind, and he didn’t care what kind of hurtful expressions crossed your face or Sam’s in response. He would simply shrug and head back to his room.

You were changing in your bedroom, alone. You’d closed the door so Sam didn’t accidentally walk in on you – and you were kind of avoiding Dean. He’d been weird lately, and you didn’t think you could handle being around him.  
You’d just slipped off your shirt and looking at your scar when the door opened. Out of habit, you pulled your shirt up to cover your bra, turning to see your intruder. Your brows furrowed when it was Dean. “Haven’t you heard of knocking?”  
He raised a brow and stepped inside, not bothering to close the door. “I have to knock to see my own girlfriend?”  
You let your shirt fall to the floor. Even if Dean was weird, he’d seen you naked before, so it wasn’t new. “You do when you’ve been a jerk to her for a week.”  
He shrugged it off. Nothing seemed to affect him anymore. He just didn’t care. He watched you in the mirror, watching how your gaze found the scar on your shoulder. “Where’d you get that?”  
Your face contorted in confusion. “You know where I got it.”  
Monotone, he replied, “Enlighten me.”  
You sighed. “You know I hate talking about it, Dean.”  
“Please?” Even his manners needed manners.  
“I got kidnapped, remember? Some demons took me to try and get to you and Sam. It took you a while to find me, so they tied me up and… hurt me.”  
He nodded. “Right. You got kidnapped because you’re a bad hunter.”  
You spun on your heel to face him, mouth agape. “Excuse me?”  
He shrugged. “You’re a bad hunter,” he repeated. “Isn’t that how people get kidnapped? They don’t know what they’re doing?”  
“They knocked me out in the middle of the night when I was on a food run for you and your brother,” you reminded. “It had nothing to do with my hunting skills.”  
“If you were a capable hunter, you would have heard the demons coming.”  
“If I was psychic, I would have heard the demons coming,” you countered. “Don’t act like you’ve never been knocked out and tied down. I’ve had to save your ass, too.”  
He stared at you. “I don’t know what I ever saw in you. You’re annoying. Annoying and a bad hunter.”  
Tears welled up in your eyes as he turned to leave. Turning over his shoulder, he said, “Consider us broken up.”  
You fell to your knees, sobs shaking your body. This wasn’t Dean.

Over the next month, Sam found out that his brother had been turned into a demon. You were furious, both at Dean himself and at the situation. You spent the next month finding a cure. He remembered when they tried to humanize Crowley by injecting him with human blood, and that it began working before he escaped. You both found Dean and managed to lock him up in the bunker, taking turns drawing your own blood to inject him.

A few weeks later, he was finally cured. You were in your room, once again looking at your scar. It had so many memories attached to it now. You’d left the door open, not caring anymore. You didn’t turn to look when familiar footsteps padded across your shag carpet.  
“(y/n),” Dean’s gruff voice greeted you.  
“Dean,” you replied, trying to be emotionless.  
He let out a sigh. “I’m sorry.”  
“For?”  
“For everything,” he replied. “I’m sorry I was a jerk. I’m sorry I called you a bad hunter. I’m sorry I got turned into a demon.”  
You turned to look at him. “Do you have any idea what that did to me?”  
He simply stared, remorse in his emerald eyes.  
“I’ve degraded myself and questioned my skills as a hunter ever since I got kidnapped,” you explained, your voice cracking. “Every time I even looked at it, you would tell me that it didn’t mean anything. You would tell me that hunters make mistakes and sometimes demons are smart. You would tell me that I only got kidnapped because they wanted to get to you, and you would tell me that it didn’t change how good of a hunter I was or how you felt about me.”  
He looked down in shame, turning to leave.  
“And then you died. Sam and I… We thought that was it. We thought you were gone. Then you woke up, and I didn’t even care how you survived. All that mattered was that you did.” You began pacing back and forth, running a hand through your hair. “You were different. You were distant… and mean. It was like you didn’t care about anything; about me. And then… not only did you call me a bad hunter, but you called me annoying. You told me that you didn’t know what you saw in me, and you told me that we were done.” Tears flowed freely down your face when you finished. “Do you have any idea how that feels?”  
He looked sadly at his boots. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I don’t… I don’t deserve you, (y/n).”  
You didn’t let him leave. Overwhelmed with a mix of emotions, you rushed forward, throwing your arms around his neck. He was stunned by the contact but wrapped his arms around your back.  
“I don’t know if I can trust you…” you whispered into his chest.  
He nodded. “I’m sorry.”  
You pulled back and looked up at him. “But… I still love you. I can’t just let you go, not after everything we did to get you back.”  
“I didn’t deserve that, either,” he murmured.  
You rested your hands on either side of his face. “I need my Dean back. Okay? Can I have my Dean back?”  
He smiled. “You can always have your Dean back.”  
You stood on your toes to kiss him, which he responded to. His hands rested lightly on your hips, giving you the option to pull away. You sighed softly against his lips, pulling him closer.


	11. Sam - Holy Hell

**Holy Hell**  
Request for Emma  
“Can you do one where the reader is Bobbys niece or daughter and the boys haven't seen her In years and Sam is like, "holy hell, when did she get hot?"”

Being the daughter of Bobby Singer, you knew all about monsters from a young age. Luckily for you, he didn’t hunt very much on his own, only helping out fellows hunters when they asked for it. He mostly worked from home, researching monsters for his hunter friends instead of actually hunting himself. This was much safer for you, and that was his biggest concern.  
You met the Winchesters when you were little. You instantly took to them, thinking of them as the brothers you never had. You didn’t get to see them for very long at a time, as they were always travelling with their dad. You understood. They were hunters, and the Winchester name was popular amongst the monster world. John had a reputation, and not a good one.  
They became your best friends. Though they didn’t stay very long, they stayed often. John seemed to like dropping them off at a shabby hotel or at Bobby’s when he was off on a hunt and he didn’t want the boys to come. Dean was old enough and had enough experience, but sometimes the hunt was too dangerous, and Sam was just learning. Bobby almost admired John for not telling Sam right away, but then, it wasn’t right to keep that big of a secret.  
You cherished the weekends that the boys would spend with you and your dad. You watched as he became a surrogate dad to them too, and that made you happy. It helped the three of you bond, and when you got into your teens, you almost wished you were a hunter too, so you could join them.

You were twenty-one now, the same age as Sam. You still lived with Bobby, and neither of you minded it. He wanted to be there in case any monsters tried to come after you, and you didn’t want to leave him alone. He was a capable hunter, but that didn’t mean he was invincible.  
The visits of the boys were few and far-between now. After high school, Sam went off to college, which meant Dean spent more time with John, and none of them had time for you. It hurt to hardly see them, but you knew they were doing their jobs. They called every so often to get help from Bobby, and you would try to chat with Dean while Bobby looked up whatever monster they were hunting. John tried to keep the phone calls short, cutting off your reunion with the older brother.  
Bobby was informed when John went missing and the brothers reunited. All they had to follow was their father’s journal, so whenever they ran into a new monster, they called your dad for help. They normally didn’t like asking for help, as they’d been raised to do it themselves, but Bobby was family, and therefore an exception.

There was a hunt near your town, and the boys were ecstatic to be so close. It was a simple salt-and-burn ghost, so they headed right over to Bobby’s afterwards.  
You knew who was at the door by Bobby’s reaction. A soft smile crossed his lips as he looked out the window, and he immediately brought the visitors in for a hug. You jumped off your spot on the couch and ran to the door. You recognized your boys, though they were tall now, with stubble on their chins. Dean stepped into the house first, so he was the first for you to throw your arms around. Sam simply stared at you, not having seen you since you were all teens.  
When you let the older Winchester go, you turned and pulled Sam in. You stood on your toes and pulled him down to your height. He had certainly grown since he was fourteen. You tilted your head in confusion when all he did was stare at you like you were a brand new person.  
You turned back to Dean. “What’s wrong with him? Bad hunt?”  
Dean looked between the two of you and smirked. Your skin-tight tank top revealed your curves and flaunted your chest, and the denim shorts covering your lower half revealed most of your lean legs. Puberty had done you good, and you were very attractive with your (h/l) (h/c) hair tied in a side ponytail and no makeup on.  
Dean shook his head. “He just hasn’t gotten a lot of sleep.”  
You eyed the two of them before shrugging. It was as good an excuse as any. “I’m making dinner tonight,” you said, your hips swaying back and forth as you sauntered into the kitchen. Sam watched you walk away which earned him a smack on the head from Bobby. The younger brother blushed furiously while the older laughed and followed you.

After dinner, you were outside working on your car while the boys cleaned up the dishes. Sam had insisted on helping, and Bobby was glad for a break.  
“Just ask her out already,” Dean said, handing Sam a plate.  
“Is it that obvious?” Sam asked, running a towel across the plate and placing it in the cupboard in front of him.  
“You’ve done nothing but stare at her since we got here,” the older brother chuckled.  
“And she hasn’t even noticed,” the younger countered. “She probably doesn’t care.”  
“We’ve treated her like a little sister since we were kids,” Dean reminded. “She probably thinks you still think of her as a sister.”  
Sam’s gaze travelled to the window which offered him a perfect view of you leaning over the trunk of your car. Since it was a warm day, you decided to wash your 69 Mustang Fastback. A large sponge was gripped in your right hand, your arm stretching up to the roof of your car to wipe away the dust that had settled there from the dry heat.  
Dean nudged his brother in the side. “Go talk to her.  
Sam nodded and headed outside, taking a sponge with him under the pretense of helping you wash your car.

“Hey, (y/n),” he called out, trying not to startle you.  
“Hey, Sammy,” you replied, not looking up. There was a stubborn spot on the tail light that you were trying to scrub out. You heard the slushing of water inside the bucket as Sam dunked his sponge before sliding it across the hood.  
“It’s been a while,” he began awkwardly.  
You giggled. “You’re not very good at small talk. Is there something you need?”  
“I, uh…” he faltered, instead focusing on your windshield. “I was wondering…”  
“Yes?” you prompted, pausing your efforts and looking up at him.  
He gulped and looked back at you. “Do you wanna go out for lunch? With me?”  
You stood, dropping your sponge into the bucket. “Just you?” you clarified, wiping your hands on the butt of your jeans.  
“Just me,” he nodded.  
“Like a date?”  
“Exactly like a date.”  
He stood nervously as you approached him, your hands on your hips. You weren’t aware of Bobby and Dean watching as you looked up at the tall brunette, your head only reaching his shoulder.  
You stood on your toes, placing your hands on his chest for balance. You caught him off guard and pressed your lips to his, something you’d wanted to do since you were a teen.  
“Tomorrow at noon,” you said, pulling away with a smirk. “There’s a diner just down the street. We can walk.”  
He smiled and nodded excitedly. “Sounds great.”  
You pecked his cheek before picking up the soap bucket and carrying it back into the house, a grin on your lips as you thought about tomorrow.


	12. Gabriel - Guardian Angel

**Guardian Angel**  
Request for Abby the Time Lady  
A/N: I modified the request a little. The love confession didn’t really fit in.  
“Reader has a bad dream and wakes up to find a guy standing in the corner of her bedroom. This guy is, of course, Gabriel, but he doesn't tell Reader-chan. This continue to happen over a couple of days until Gabriel tells her that he is a trickster and an archangel trying to protect her from bad dreams, because Reader has been having bad dreams ever since her last hunt with the Winchesters. He also tells her that he has fallen for her as well.”

_You ran. You ran as fast and hard as you could. All that surrounded you was darkness, and that terrified you. You could hear howls and snarls following your every move, but everywhere you turned, you saw nothing but black. No light shining from the abnormally dim moon above, no glowing eyes in the distance to confirm another presence.  
You stopped and rested against a tree. You were bent over, your hands on your knees, panting for breath. Running took the wind right out of you, and left you gasping for air. You continued to look around, expecting to see the angry glowing eyes of some monster, but you were alone. You called out for help, and for the creatures to leave you alone, but all you received in response were chilly darkness and another howl._

You awoke with a gasp on your lips, panting. A cold sweat drenched your skin, sticking your hair to your forehead and chilling your sheets. You took in a long breath, trying to calm your racing heart.  
A nightmare. Again.  
It had been exactly the same for the last two weeks. Ever since you helped the Winchesters track down a crossroads demon, you couldn’t escape the sounds. The shrieking howls of Hellhounds haunted you every night, and the darkness made you feel trapped, like the hounds were after you.  
You pushed the covers away with your feet before turning to the edge of the bed, preparing to get up. You lifted your gaze to the moonlight spilling in from the window, unblocked by the curtains. A surprised gasp left your lips as you saw a humanoid shadow with golden eyes lurking between the window and your dresser in the corner. Panic flooded you and your heart pounded in your ears. Were your nightmares real? Was someone here to hurt you? How had they gotten into your apartment?  
Before you could ask questions, the shadow was gone. You blinked and rubbed your eyes, seeing nothing but empty space where the figure had been. You let out a sigh and shook your head, standing from your bed and heading into the kitchen for a glass of water. It was going to be a long night.

The same occurrence happened the next two nights. The nightmare haunted you every time, and when you awoke, afraid for your life, an unnamed figure lingered in the darkness beside your window. Every night, just as you were about to call out to it and ask its business, it disappeared.  
You hadn’t slept very much lately.  
Between the horror of the nightmare and the fear of an unknown presence in your bedroom, you spent most nights reading and drinking tea with the lamp on. At least you got the couple hours of sleep leading up to and through the nightmare. That was better than nothing, right?  
On the third night, you were quick. You expected it. The second you woke up, you called out, “Who’s there?”  
A sigh answered you, and soft footsteps padded closer to your bed. You heard the sound of someone snapping their fingers, and your lamp turned on without you touching it. You gulped softly and looked at the very human-looking man in your room.  
“Who are you?” you asked again.  
“My name is Gabriel,” he replied with a friendly voice, though his expression was solemn.  
“Why are you in my apartment?” you asked, scooting further back on your bed with every step closer he took.  
“I’m an archangel,” he explained. “I was sent to watch over and protect you.”  
“Protect me from what?” you inquired, narrowing your eyes.  
“Your nightmares.”  
“How do you know about them?”  
“As I said, I was sent to watch over you. You’re my charge. I’m your assigned guardian angel.” He sat on the edge of your bed, making sure to leave room between you. “I know that you’ve had the nightmares since your last hunt.”  
“How long have you been watching me?” you asked, not liking the idea of some angel spying on you.  
He raised his hands in defense. “Before you get the wrong idea, I only check in when I sense you’re in trouble. I keep an eye on you when you hunt, to make sure you get out okay. I sense when you’re hurt or upset. Without knowing it, you call out to me. So I come to check on you, and I can read that you’re having a nightmare.”  
“So you read my mind?” you clarified. What an invasion of privacy.  
“Only when I need to,” he replied. “I would never just invade your mind for no reason. I only do it when I know you’re in trouble.”  
You nodded, slowly accepting the new information. “How can you stop the nightmares?”  
“I started by reading your mind and stopping them from inside,” he replied, making you cringe. “I can’t control your mind, but I can subconsciously tell you that I’m there, that you’re safe. That’s all I did. I reached in and let you know that I would protect you.”  
“Can you make them stop completely?” you asked in a small voice. “I don’t… I don’t know if I can keep going, having the same nightmare every night. I don’t get a lot of sleep.”  
He nodded. “I know that, too. I have a suggestion, though you may not like it.”  
You tilted your head, silently urging him to continue.  
He scooted closer, and something made you want to let him. “Sometimes, angels can help their charges by just being with them. I think that if I lie with you while you fall asleep, I can protect your subconscious and keep the nightmare from happening.”  
“So you want me to sleep with you?” you summarized bluntly. A blush stained his cheeks at the suggestion.  
“No, of course not,” he replied before clearing his throat. “I would never violate you, (y/n). I merely want to help. Just let me lie beside you and I promise, the nightmares won’t come back.”  
You looked into his honey colored eyes, finding honest sincerity. You nodded softly, suddenly trusting the supposed archangel. Maybe it was because you were his charge, but you were drawn to him, like you were meant to trust him.  
“Lie down,” he said softly. You complied, snuggling beneath your feather comforter. He remained atop the blankets, unsure of how close you wanted him to be.  
“You can come in,” you murmured, and he smiled softly.  
“Angels do not feel cold, but the closer we are, the more we can help,” he said, sliding under the blanket. He offered an arm for you to lie on, and without thinking, you accepted the invitation. You curled into chest and relaxed instantly. You hadn’t fallen asleep cuddled up to someone in so long…  
He smiled. “See? I told you I could help.”  
You nodded sleepily, letting out a soft yawn. You draped an arm over his abdomen and buried your face in his shirt, which smelled of sugar and cologne. He wrapped his arms around you, one hand gently carding through your hair, knowing it soothed you. Just as you fell asleep, he pressed a tender kiss to your forehead.  
“Sleep well, my beautiful (y/n),” he whispered.  
There were no nightmares that night, or any night after; not as long as you had Gabriel by your side.


	13. Gabriel - The Prophecy

**The Prophecy**  
Request for Jewel  
A/N: Again, I had to modify the request.  
“Can you do a Gabe one shot where the reader is a hunter who becomes a prophet. Gabriel is resurrected to be her guardian, immediately falling in love with her. It takes some time, but the reader eventually owns up to their feelings for him as well.”

You bolted upright with a gasp on your lips. Suddenly everything made sense. You shoved the blanket away and jumped out of bed, not even bothering to put on socks as you ran into the living room where your laptop, notebooks and the mysterious object had been left.  
You plopped down on the couch, your freezing cold toes momentarily forgotten as you scribbled furiously on your notebook. Your eyes darted between the hieroglyphics on the slab of marble in front of you and the book in your lap, your hand never ceasing its movements.  
You let out a sigh when you ran out of things to write. You slumped against the plush cushions adorning the couch, closing your eyes. Your hand cramped from half an hour of constant scribbling, but you felt accomplished. You’d had a dream telling you how to decipher the oddly carved piece of marble that had mysteriously appeared in your garden. It had no note or return address, nor any reason for why it just appeared in your front yard. You didn’t know what you were meant to do with it, but it pulled you in like a moth to a flame. You became obsessed with decoding it, trying to understand the foreign scripture engraved on the front.  
A few days after finding it, you began having dreams about it. Most dreams consisted of incoherent whispers in the darkness, which left you fearful and even more confused. A few of them were like the one from last night. They were clear as a sunny day, showing you how to decode the hieroglyphics and learn what messages the slab truly held secret.  
Even after deciphering most of the writing, you still had no idea what it meant, or what you were supposed to do with it.  
You took a break from the decoding and went back to your room to change. You slid on a pair of socks and replaced your oversized night shirt with a tank top and jeans. After brushing your hair and pulling it into a braid, you headed into the kitchen for breakfast.  
After you started the coffee pot and dropped a couple pieces of bread into the toaster, you turned on the TV to the news channel. Being a hunter, you liked to keep tabs on what was happening around town, just to see if anything seemed like your kind of case.  
You took your plate of toast and mug of steaming coffee to the living room, setting the dishes on the coffee table before collapsing into the couch. You leaned forward as you nibbled on your toast, tiny crumbs falling from your lips and decorating your lap. You were too lost in the details of a murder case to hear the flutter of wings or notice a new presence in your apartment.  
Only when you stood up to return your now empty dishes to the sink did you see that you had a visitor.  
Letting out a shriek of surprise, you dropped the plate and mug on the carpet and stared at your intruder. You immediately ran to the kitchen to grab a knife, pointing it at the mysterious brunette, who simply chuckled in response.  
“Who are you?” you asked. “How did you get into my apartment?”  
He raised his hands in surrender. “Calm down. I’m on your side. I’m an angel.”  
You lowered the knife, narrowing your eyes. “An angel.”  
He nodded. “Gabriel, the archangel.”  
“What are you doing here?” you inquired, setting the knife on the counter.  
“I was sent to protect you. You’re very special, (y/n).”  
“Monsters, of course,” he smiled. “I know you know all about them.”  
“Why would the monsters target me? It’s not like I’m a Winchester or something. I’m not special.”  
By now you had moved back into the living room, taking a seat on the couch. He sat beside you, and you made no movement to back away.  
“The tablet,” he began, “where did you get it?”  
“What tablet?” you asked.  
He nodded his head towards the slab of marble on your coffee table.  
“That thing?” you replied. “I found it on the bushes outside my apartment.”  
“When?”  
You shrugged. “A little over a week ago.”  
“Why did you take it?” His voice remained light and friendly, instead of intimidating like you’d expected.  
“I was… drawn to it,” you replied, staring at the tablet. “I don’t know why. I’ve never felt such a connection. I just knew I was supposed to have it.”  
“What have you been doing with it?” You hadn’t noticed the soft smile on his lips.  
“Trying to decode it. At first I didn’t know what to do with it. I thought it was some odd looking piece of marble. Then…”  
“Then?” he pressed gently, scooting closer.  
“Then… I started having dreams. Most of them didn’t make sense. It was like someone had blindfolded me and tied me up and then started whispering a foreign language in my ear. But some of the dreams made sense.” You let out a soft sigh, turning your gaze back to his honey colored eyes. “The dreams told me the code; how to decipher the tablet. I’ve written everything down, but I still don’t know what it means, or why it came to me.”  
“Can I see your notes?”  
You nodded and reached across his lap, your cheeks burning as your arm brushed his leg. You grasped the notebook that sat beside the tablet, handing it to him. He flipped through the pages to find the first page of your writing, and you were glad you had nothing personal in that book.  
He seemed impressed with what you’d discovered, nodding in approval here and there. “You’ve managed to translate it.”  
“Translate what?” you replied. “What does it mean?”  
He turned to you and took in a breath. “You’re a hunter. You believe in a lot of strange things, right?”  
You nodded. “Like angels and demons and whatnot?”  
He nodded as well. “Prophets also exist. They have special powers that work in different ways. Some of them can tell the future; some of them are translators.”  
“And I’m a translator?” you guessed.  
He picked up the tablet. “This is what’s called the Demon Tablet. Within this scripture are the steps to permanently close the gates of Hell.”  
Your jaw dropped. “You can do that? Close Hell?”  
He shrugged. “It’s never been done, only written. No one’s tried it.”  
“The code said something about Trials… What does that mean?”  
“Anyone trying to close the gates of Hell has to undergo certain life-threatening and character-defining Trials to do so. It’s a long and dangerous process.”  
You sat back against one arm of the couch, overwhelmed. “So… All this time… I’ve been racking my brain trying to translate this engraved rock… and it’s been the key to closing Hell forever?”  
He nodded again. “We’ve been looking for this for a long time. Both the angels and the demons badly want this back. You can understand why.”  
“You can have it back,” you shrugged.  
He shook his head vigorously. “No, no. You have to keep it. You are the prophet; you are the Tablet’s protector. You can’t let anyone else touch it.”  
“You’re touching it,” you pointed out.  
He deadpanned. “And I’m your protector.”  
You rolled your eyes with a smirk. “Okay. I won’t let anyone else touch it.”  
He grinned. “Good. Now, what do you say we go get some coffee?”  
You raised a brow. “Are you asking me on a date, archangel?”  
“That depends.”  
“On what?”  
“On your answer.”  
You bit your lip and looked up at him. “Sounds great.”

He took you to a local coffee shop, and you were surprised at how human he appeared. He explained that though angels didn’t require food or sleep, he enjoyed both of those on the rare occasion he had the time for them. He enjoyed carrying candy around for snacking and he became quite fond of coffee. The smile never left your lips or your eyes as you sat across from your guardian angel.  
For all transportation, he made sure you left and appeared in a secluded area, where no one would notice the teleporting. You decided that you rather liked flying, especially because it gave you an excuse to be close to him.  
When he dropped you off at your apartment, he turned to go after bidding you goodnight. You gripped his sleeve, looking up at him with disappointment and loneliness in your eyes. He smiled softly and cupped your cheek. You closed your eyes and leaned into his touch. He leaned in and pressed his lips to yours. They were warm and soft and tasted like candy. Your hands fisted in his jacket, pulling him closer. He picked you up bridal style and carried you to bed, though you still refused to let go.  
He lied beside you and let you curl into his chest. Your face buried in his neck, sleepiness washing over you.  
He ran a hand through your hair, helping you relax. Just as you fell asleep, he kissed your head and whispered, “I think I’m falling for you, (y/n).”  
You smiled in your sleep and snuggled closer, wrapping your arms around his waist. He simply hugged you closer, soon falling asleep as well.


	14. Sam - Broken

**Broken**  
Request for Miriam Thordottir  
“The reader is a skilled hunter but breaks a bone while on a hunt, and is in a lot of pain. She'll need surgery and to be put on bedrest so Sam takes care of her and holds her when it hurts too much.”’

You let out a cry of pain as you were set in the backseat of Baby. Sam nervously slid into the front seat while Dean hopped behind the wheel.  
You broke your leg during a werewolf hunt with the boys. You shot at the creature in the dark, your silver bullets just barely missing its fur. You stopped to reload, having run out of ammo, and the werewolf lunged at you. The boys were busy fighting off its friends, so you were alone. It enclosed its jaws around your left calf, closing painfully. You heard a snap and let out a scream, beckoning Sam and Dean away from their fights. They shot at the werewolf, pulling it away from your leg. You collapsed to the ground, your injured leg laying straight out, bleeding profusely through the shreds in your jeans.  
They quickly determined after seeing the bone sticking out of your pant leg that they wouldn’t be able to fix it on their own. Dean sped down the highway, trying to get to the hospital as fast as he could. He could see the worry in Sam’s eyes, and he didn’t want his brother to panic.

Dean rushed into the hospital to check you in while Sam gently lifted you out of the backseat. He cradled you against his chest, his brow furrowed in worry. You whimpered as your leg was jostled, the broken bone rubbing against your shredded skin painfully.  
He carried you inside and followed a nurse to a room, laying you down on the bed. Blood seeped from your leg and soaked the once pearly white sheets beneath you. You gasped in pain as the nurse shooed the boys away. All you wanted was Sam beside you, offering moral support while the nurses stitched you up.  
After plugging an IV into your arm, the nurse headed out to the boys in the waiting room. “I need to speak with the both of you.”  
Dean and Sam jumped to their feet.  
“She needs surgery,” the nurse said. “Her leg is broken in several places. It’ll need surgery to put it all back together. I need her consent as well as yours to perform the surgery.”  
“Is it absolutely necessary?” Sam asked.  
The nurse nodded. “We can try to splint her leg but it would be much more effective to perform surgery.”  
“Is it safe?” Dean inquired.  
The nurse nodded again. “It’s a very basic procedure. No risk at all.”  
The boys shared a look.  
“Okay,” Sam said. “We consent.”  
“You may see her,” the nurse said, leading them back to your room. You were sedated, fading in and out of consciousness due to blood loss.  
“(y/n),” Sam breathed softly, rushing to your side. He knelt by your bed, holding your hand gently. “How are you?”  
“Tired,” you mumbled.  
“The nurse said you need surgery,” Dean explained. Your eyes widened slightly in worry.  
“Surgery?” you repeated.  
“She said it’s a basic procedure,” Sam assured you. “You’ll be fine. You just have to consent.”  
You sighed softly and nodded. You wanted to get better.

The surgery went according to plan, though it required a week in the hospital and then several weeks of bed rest when you got out. You argued with the doctor’s orders, but the boys insisted. Sam carried you to and from the car and anywhere else you needed to go, even when you argued. The doctor had given you crutches, but you felt useless having to use them. You felt like a cripple, and it made you feel like less of a hunter.  
When you reached the shabby hotel the boys had gotten for the night, Sam laid you gently on the bed next to the window and tucked you in. He made sure your injured leg wouldn’t jostle too much and arranged the pillows so you could be propped up. You were half sitting up, leaning against the fluffed pillows. You smiled softly as Sam brought you a sandwich and a soda. He sat on the edge of the bed beside you, worried for your recovery.  
After you ate, you snuggled into the blankets, lying down. Dean had already passed out on the other bed, which left Sam to wonder where he was sleeping. He assumed the floor, since there was no couch and he wasn’t sure you’d want to share a bed. While wondering whether or not to ask you if it would be too forward, he switched on the TV and flipped through the channels, looking for a show you liked. He settled on The Big Bang Theory, leaning back against the headboard.  
You let out a yawn, ready to fall asleep. Sam stood with the intention of sleeping on the floor, but you grasped his sleeve. He turned to you with a small smile.  
“Lay with me?” you asked tiredly.  
He nodded, a blush on his cheeks. He sat on the bed and laid down beside you, sliding an arm under your head for comfort.  
“You can get under the blanket,” you said, smiling up at him. He nodded and slid beneath the blanket, making sure not to touch your leg. You snuggled into his side as best you could while lying on your back. His arm wrapped around your shoulder and settled against your head, his fingers carding through your hair. You hummed softly in reply, your head nestled into his shoulder.  
“I love you, Sam,” you murmured softly. He looked down at you in surprise. Had he heard you right? Were you just talking in your sleep?  
“I love you too,” he whispered.  
You titled your head up to meet his gaze. You smiled softly, resting a hand on his chest. He tilted his head and leaned down, gently pressing his lips to yours. You responded immediately, using your hand on his chest to push yourself closer. His other arm draped over your waist, his hand gently gripping your hip.  
You pulled back for air and smiled. His hand lifted to your face, rubbing his thumb over your cheekbone. You nuzzled your nose into his neck, drifting off to sleep.


	15. Dean - Right Here With You

**Right Here With You**  
Request for His Babygirl  
A/N: Co-written by TheSilverScorpion  
“I am a newly developed hunter and I come across them during a case and they teach me everything I know and we become close and Dean and I fall in love?”

You rested your hands on your knees and panted, convincing Dean to let you take five. You took a long swig from your water bottle and closed your eyes.  
You met Sam and Dean during a vamp hunt. You were tracking them on your own and got caught, and the Winchesters showed up in the nick of time to kill the vamp that had a hold on you.

You hid behind a pillar as you tried to listen for the sound of footsteps, but you couldn't get any clear noise over your heavy breathing. This being only your third case, you weren't all that accustomed to running for your life yet. After what felt like forever, you came out of hiding and looked around to find the vampire in two pieces: a body and a head.  
Just when you thought you were in the clear, you were caught in a choke hold.  
"Where are the others?" a gruff voice asked. You would have scoffed if you could. You found it very rude to ask a lady to talk while she was in a choke hold.  
"I don’t-!" You coughed in reply, your throat constricted by the tight arm wrapped around it. You sighed of relief when you were released, only to feel the cold touch of a metal blade against your throat.  
"Woah! I'm not one of them!" The cold air stung your cheeks as you yelled your testimony.  
"Tell it to the guy downstairs," the gruff voice said. You tried to ignore the tingling knots that formed in your belly at the sound of the voice. "Now where are the rest?"  
"I killed them! All of their heads chopped off! I mean, of course there were only three, if you were to-"  
"Enough!" another deep voice said. The knife was hesitantly taken away from your throat, allowing you to see your attackers. One was tall and looked like he could use a haircut, while the other was more handsome.  
"Prove it," the handsome one said. "Show us your gums." You raised your top lip and pressed under your teeth to show you didn't have an extra row. The two exchanged convinced looks.  
"Alright, what's your name?" the tall one asked.  
"(Y/N)(L/N)," you replied.  
"Well, I'm Sam, and that's Dean-"  
"The Winchesters! I may be inexperienced, but I know the names."  
"Yeah, we can tell you're inexperienced," Dean stated, rolling his eyes.  
"Oh really?” you replied sassily. “What gave me away?"  
"Well, common sense tells us that when hiding from a blood sucking monster, we would do anything but hide behind a pillar."  
"I… Shut up."

You sent Dean a grin and set down your water. You were ready to go again. He lunged at you, aiming low. You placed your hands on his back when he got close enough, using the leverage to vault over his body and land on the ground behind him. He lost his footing and tumbled to the ground, turning to look up at you. He smiled approvingly as he rose to his feet.  
“You’re getting better,” he complimented.  
“I’ve had good teachers,” you countered with a smile.  
You’d grown close to the boys since they agreed to train you. You were weak and inexperienced when they found you fighting the vampires, and you really needed the help. You followed them back to the bunker after swearing on your life that you’d never tell anyone where it was. You visited them multiple times a week, and you’d even spent the night a couple of times when training went on late or they invited you to stay. There had been a couple of times where they suggested a movie night, and you enjoyed being around the boys, so you agreed.  
You began developing feelings for the older Winchester. His short brown hair suited his personality and his emerald eyes made you melt. His gruff voice enticed you and his laugh was music to your ears. You were careful to keep your feelings to yourself, though. There was no way they were reciprocated.

“Dean, just ask her out,” Sam reasoned as he typed away at the keyboard of his laptop.  
“Shut up, Sammy,” Dean replied, looking over the local newspaper.  
Sam chuckled in reply. “She obviously likes you. That’s why she comes around so much.”  
“How do you know she doesn’t like you?” the older brother countered.  
“I’ve seen the way she looks at you,” the younger stated. “She hangs onto your every word. You can’t see it because you’re dense, but she has a thing for you.”  
Dean rolled his eyes. “She does not.”  
Sam looked up at his brother. “Dude, if you don’t ask her out, I will.”  
With that, he stood and headed into the kitchen for a snack, leaving Dean sitting at the table, brows furrowed as he contemplated his options.

You had another training session that night. You arrived at the bunker and were immediately wrapped in a moose hug. You let out a laugh and returned the gesture, completely missing the glare Dean was sending his little brother.  
You let Sam go and headed over to Dean. “You ready?”  
He nodded curtly and led you to the bunker’s training room. Sam smiled and shook his head as he watched you go. “Come on, Dean…”

After a few hours of training, you needed a break. You smiled at the older Winchester who returned it, though he seemed distracted.  
“You okay?” you asked, drinking your water.  
“Hm?” he replied. “Yeah, fine.”  
You tilted your head disbelievingly. “Are you sure? You seem distracted, Winchester.”  
He shook his head. “I’m good. Just surprised at how good you’re getting.”  
“Maybe I can hunt on my own soon,” you said half-heartedly. You loved the boys, but it was a symbol of skill and respect for a hunter to handle a case on their own.  
You were confused and felt guilty for the hurt look that crossed his features. “What? What did I say?”  
“Do you not want to hang around us anymore?” he asked, his hurt mixing with aggression in an attempt to mask his feelings.  
“No, that’s not what I meant,” you replied. “I just meant that you guys, you especially, have taught me so much that I think I could hunt by myself and not get killed.”  
He let out a sigh and sat down. “Maybe I am distracted.”  
“I’ll say,” you replied, sitting beside him. “What’s gotten into you?”  
He stared at you as you looked up at him in concern. He watched the way your eyes sparkled in the light. He saw how a few strands of hair had gotten loose from the bun you’d tied at the back of your head. He watched your chest rise and fall with heavy breaths from all of the physical exertion.  
Without thinking, he swooped in and pressed a kiss to your lips. Your eyes widened, but before you could respond, he pulled back.  
“If you ever do leave us… I wanted to make sure I did that first,” he said.  
Instead of replying, you took his face in your hands and returned the favor. He responded immediately, his hands resting at your waist. You let out a soft sigh which gave him access to swipe his tongue across your lower lip. You shivered against him before pulling away.  
“I don’t think I could leave,” you stated. “Not for long, anyway.”  
“You could stay with us,” he offered. “This place has dozens of spare rooms.”  
“Are you sure?” you asked, your eyes lighting up at the thought.  
He chuckled softly. “Sure. You spend most of your time here anyway. Why not make it official?”  
You threw your arms around him, kissing him quickly. “That sounds amazing.”  
He smiled and wrapped his arms around your waist. “It’s official then. You’re staying here.”  
“With you,” you concluded, pressing your lips to his.


	16. Dean - Summer Lovin'

**Summer Lovin’**  
Request for Evangeline Buckingham  
“Can you do a Dean one shot in which reader is Dean's teenage crush and they meet again and Dean finds out she is also a hunter.”

“Dean,” you protested softly, placing your hands on his chest to gently push him back.  
“What is it?” he asked, his arms around your waist. “I thought you wanted to be with me.”  
“I do,” you assured him, looking down at the sand beneath your bare feet. “I just… You have to leave tomorrow. What’s the point of getting together if I’ll never see you again?”  
“Who said you’ll never see me again?” he asked, concern furrowing his brow.  
“You’re constantly moving. Your dad doesn’t like me. You said there was nothing in this town to keep your family here. Why would you come back?”  
He brought his hands up to where yours rested on his chest, taking yours into his. He brought them up to his lips, kissing your knuckles. “You’re all the reason I need to come back to this town. I’ll convince my dad. I promise I’ll see you again someday.”  
You looked up at him, biting your lower lip. You hated the thought of him leaving, but you didn’t want him to think you didn’t have faith in him, so you nodded.  
He leaned down to press a kiss to your lips. “I promise. We’ll meet again someday.”  
You nodded again, tilting your head to deepen the kiss. You let out a disappointed sigh when you heard a gruff voice calling Dean’s name. He gave you a sad smile and kissed your forehead before reluctantly releasing your hands and turning to walk away. You watched him go, waiting until he caught up with his dad to turn around and head back to your house which was just off the beach.

Seven years later, you were on your own as an adult. You never saw or heard from Dean since that summer evening at the beach by your childhood home. You thought about him constantly for the next year, but after that, your priorities changed. Your mother died in a horrible accident shortly after you turned eighteen, and she was all you had, so you moved into your own apartment and began a life on your own.  
You were a hunter. You got in contact with your uncle Bobby who explained about things that went bump in the night, and you realized that some monster had killed your mother. With help from Bobby, you figured out what kind of monster it was, but he discouraged you from tracking it down. He explained that hunting out of revenge was dangerous and clouded your judgment. You eventually gave in and agreed not to pursue that particular monster unless it came to town again. You stayed in your hometown, hunting creatures that invaded your territory and tried to pick off the locals.

You were now on a hunt after something called a Djinn. You had found one of the victims in an alley, unfortunately a little too late. You had called the authorities to take care of the body before calling your uncle to see if it was one of his kind of creatures. He confirmed your suspicions and did some research, relating to you all he found. He explained that Djinn were kind of like genies, but they were far from happy creatures. You had found the poor girl suspended by chains with an IV draining her blood. Bobby explained that the Djinn tricked their victims into thinking they were living their greatest dream, while in reality they were unconscious and being drained so the Djinn could feed.  
You were disgusted by their process, but you decided to hunt it anyway. You had a silver blade, but you weren’t sure how you were going to inconspicuously coat it lamb’s blood. Still, you wanted to help, especially after being the one to find the poor teenager’s body in a back alley.  
You were sneaking through that same alley, keeping an eye out for blue skin. Bobby had told you how dangerous Djinn were, so you tried to stay quiet and be alert.  
Before you could register what was happening, you were shoved against a wall with a hand on your mouth. Your eyes widened when you saw blue, tattooed skin and dark eyes staring into your soul. You let out a whimper against its hand, but there was no one around to hear. Your eyes slid closed as you slipped into unconsciousness.

_You were seventeen again, sitting in the sand on the beach by your house. Dean was seated behind you, his legs on either side of yours and his arms wrapped around your waist. His chin rested on your shoulder as you both watched the sunset beyond the surface of the lake. You leaned back against his chest and closed your eyes, humming softly.  
All you could feel was the love and desire you felt for the mysterious restaurant. His warm arms made you feel safe and loved, even if you’d only known him for a short time.  
He turned his head and pressed a kiss to your cheek, forming a soft smile on your lips. You turned to face him as he leaned in to kiss you again. You caught his lips and tilted your head back for a better angle. He brought one hand up to caress your cheek, holding the side of your face. You hummed softly against his lips, relaxing in his embrace.  
You’d never felt so safe and warm and happy._

“Sam, I found one,” Dean called out as he approached the unconscious girl with (h/c) hair. She seemed very familiar, though Dean wondered if she was just really pretty. He unhooked the chains around her wrists and removed the IV draining her blood. She let out a soft noise as she slumped against him. He wrapped his arms around her waist, slowly lowering her to the ground to she could lie down.  
“Hey, can you hear me?” he called softly.  
As you came to, you softly mumbled, “Dean…”  
His eyes widened. He knew that voice. “(y/n)?”  
Your eyes fluttered open and the first thing you saw was a pair of emerald green eyes. They were filled with confusion and concern and a hint of awe.  
“Dean?” you greeted in confusion. You slowly sat up and looked around, but the world spun and you fell back. He leaned forward and caught you before you could hurt yourself.  
“Take it easy,” he said. “You’ve lost a lot of blood.”  
“What are you doing here?” you asked slowly. “What happened to me?”  
“You were attacked,” he replied.  
“Was it the Djinn?” you asked before you thought about it.  
His eyes widened again. “You know about the Djinn?”  
You nodded carefully. “I was hunting it.”  
He placed an arm under your back and helped you sit up, offering you a bottle of water. “You’re a hunter?”  
You nodded again. “I have been for a few years now.”  
“We’re hunters too, me and Sam,” he said. “That’s why we moved around so much when we were younger. Our dad taught us everything, and we moved around whenever there was a new hunt.”  
“I just stayed here,” you replied. “My mom died about a year after you guys left, and I had no other family in the area. I called my uncle and he explained monsters and told me that my mom had been killed by a werewolf. I never tracked it down. Bobby convinced me not to.”  
“Bobby?” Dean repeated. “Bobby Singer?”  
“Yeah,” you replied. “You know him?”  
He nodded but decided not to press the topic. “I never thought I’d see you again.”  
You smiled softly. “Neither did I.”  
“I missed you,” he whispered, resting a hand on your cheek.  
“I missed you too,” you countered, resting your forehead on his. He leaned in and kissed your lips the way he had when you were seventeen, but now it was better. All of that attraction and desire from your teens came flooding back, building inside you, causing you to pull him closer by his jacket. He wrapped his arms around your waist and returned the kiss passionately.  
You pulled back for air and smiled up at him. “I love you, Dean.”  
He grinned and lifted you bridal style, carrying you to his car. “I love you too.”


	17. Jo - It's Supernatural

**It’s Supernatural**  
A/N: An idea I got based on a roleplay. I really wanted to make it a one shot.  
“Demon!Reader. You find yourself falling for Jo and Jo falls for you, but she tries to stay away because you’re Crowley’s daughter and therefore a demon.”

You lounged on the couch in the living room of the bunker. You liked popping in and surprising the Winchesters when they came back from a hunt. You didn’t have an interest in either of them, and they usually tried to shoot you, but it was entertaining.  
You heard the front door swing open and a smirk played on your lips. You looked up and waited for the boys to come in. You were surprised to see a familiar, attractive blonde following the two of them.  
“Ah, what the Hell are you doing here?” Dean groaned.  
“Aw,” you replied with a feigned pout. “Not happy to see me, Winchester?”  
“Why are you here, (y/n)?” Sam asked, sitting at the table where all of his research was.  
You sat up to make room for Jo as she sat on the couch. “I just wanted to go topside for a little while. Daddy doesn’t want me mingling with ‘those bastard Winchesters’. I needed a break from Hell.”  
“Daddy?” Jo asked in confusion. She knew of you being a demon but not of your heritage.  
“Crowley,” you replied simply. She seemed surprised and almost disappointed.  
“Why do you always come to us?” Sam asked, typing away at his laptop.  
“I love bugging Daddy’s Winchesters,” you replied with a grin.  
The moose rolled his eyes. “Just don’t break anything.” With that, he picked up his laptop and left the room, leaving you alone with Jo.  
You turned towards the blonde, realizing how beautiful she was. She ran a hand through her golden hair, brushing it behind her ear. You nibbled the inside of your lip as you watched her. It was strange for a demon to be so attracted to a human, but you didn’t much care. She was hot. But you knew she had standards. And you were below them.  
She looked up to meet your gaze and every thought fled from your head. She thought you were gorgeous with your (h/l) (h/c) hair falling gently over your shoulder and your (e/c) eyes sparkling in the dim light of the living room. She had always been attracted to you, even though you were a demon. Discovering you were Crowley’s daughter hadn’t changed her opinion at all, but she knew it was wrong- and dangerous- to love a demon.  
You scooted closer to her, deciding to take a leap of faith. She watched you approach, making no move to get away. You shifted until you were right next to her, leaning in ever-so-slightly. She leaned forward, your bodies inches away from hers. You reached forward and tangled a hand in her long blonde hair, gently pulling her closer. She closed the distance and crashed her lips to yours. You responded immediately, shifting so that you were straddling her lap. Her hands rested on your hips, trying to get as close as she could. Your other hand rested on her neck, keeping her close as you nipped her lower lip.  
She pulled back suddenly, pushing you away. You landed half-lying down on the couch cushions and stared up at her in confusion. She stood abruptly and ran a hand through her hair, blowing out a breath as though she’d just royally messed up.  
“What the Hell?” you asked, standing as well.  
“I can’t be kissing you,” she stated, pacing back and forth.  
“You didn’t seem to mind a few seconds ago,” you argued, hands on your hips.  
“I wasn’t thinking,” she replied defiantly.  
“So now that you’re thinking, you’re too good for me?” you accused, staring at her.  
“You’re a demon!” she pointed out, turning to glare at you. “I can’t… I can’t be with a demon.”  
You stared at her. She had been fine with you hanging around her and the boys all this time, knowing what you were. You steeled yourself, telling yourself that this stupid human didn’t deserve your emotions.  
“Fine,” you said. “You’re right. I am a demon. I’m the daughter of the King of Hell. You’re just a human. I don’t need you.” You walked past her to the front door, wanting to slam the door behind you before you transported yourself back to Hell.

“What’s got you in such a foul mood?” Crowley asked as you sulked in your room.  
“Stupid Winchesters,” you grumbled in reply.  
He raised a brow. “And when did you visit the Winchesters?”  
“Earlier,” you sighed.  
“I asked you not to see them,” he reminded, sitting on your bed.  
“Well, I wanted to,” you replied, crossing your arms.  
“What did they do?”  
“It’s stupid. It wasn’t even them. It was a friend of theirs.”  
“A friend?” he asked.  
“It’s stupid,” you repeated. “It’s so… human.”  
“Are there emotions involved?” he guessed.  
You nodded curtly.  
“What happened?” He seemed genuinely interested.  
You sighed again and leaned back against the headboard. “I kissed one of their hunter friends.”  
“The blonde you were talking about?” he asked with a raised brow.  
“Yeah,” you nodded.  
“Did she know about you?” he asked.  
“Yep. She always knew I was a demon and tonight she found out about you. She didn’t seem to care. She even kissed me first. Then she just shoved me off and told me that I was a demon and she couldn’t love a demon.”  
“You’re better than that,” he reasoned. “There are plenty of demons down here that would love a shot with you. I have to beat them off with a stick.”  
“I know,” you replied with a small smile. “I’ve watched you beat them off with a stick.”  
He chuckled. “Don’t waste your time on the human. She’s not worth it.”  
You nodded as he left your room, but couldn’t get Jo out of your head.

“What was the fight about?” Sam asked, finding Jo sulking on the couch. “I could hear you two yelling.”  
“You should know, then,” she replied.  
“I wasn’t trying to listen,” he countered, sitting beside her.  
Jo turned to him. “She’s a demon.”  
He nodded. “Yeah, you knew that. What was the fight about?”  
“I kissed her.”  
“Well I have it on good authority that she has a thing for you,” he said. “Why is kissing her a bad thing?”  
“Because then I pushed her away and told her that I couldn’t be with a demon,” Jo sighed.  
Sam nodded in understanding before standing from the couch. Jo watched him with confused eyes.  
“Where are you going?”  
“We,” he corrected, “are going to summon (y/n).”

You appeared inside the summoning circle, your arms crossed over your chest. “What do you want, Winchester?”  
Sam winced. You had never used such a cold tone with him or Dean. The three of you were almost friends. “You two need to talk,” he said.  
“We have nothing to talk about,” you countered nonchalantly. You tried to ignore the hurt expression on Jo’s face.  
Sam looked up, causing you to do the same. You let out a groan when you saw the Devil’s Trap. “You’re not leaving until you two talk,” he said before he left the room.  
You turned to Jo. “What’s this about?”  
“I was wrong,” she said, looking awkwardly at her shoes. “I’m sorry about what I said. I don’t care if you’re a demon or that your dad’s the King of Hell. I… love you… and I want to be with you.”  
“That’s dangerous,” you said simply. “Demons could hurt you. Your mom might try to kill me.”  
“I don’t care,” she replied. “We’ll figure it out. I’ll explain things to my mom. And I know how to fight. I won’t get hurt.” She stepped forward, stepping under the Devil’s Trap. “I want to be with you.”  
Your guard was slipping as you stared at her. She leaned forward and kissed you tentatively, her hands resting on your hips. You finally gave in, your lips molding against hers and your hands sliding into her hair.  
“I think I love you too,” you whispered against her lips. She grinned against yours and pulled you closer, kissing you again.


	18. Dean - Don't Go Breaking My Heart

**Don’t Go Breaking My Heart**  
Request for Marley Yessy  
A/N: Co-written by TheSilverScorpion.  
“The reader tells Dean she loves him but he doesn’t feel the same about her.”

You bit back a sigh as you passed yet another store window all decked out for Valentine’s Day. Every store in the town you were currently staying in was covered in red and pink and white, with paper hearts and fake diamonds pasted everywhere they would stay.  
Being single on Valentine’s had never bothered you before. But lately you’d been traveling with the Winchesters, and you developed a crush on the older brother. You had completely forgotten about the national holiday of love and candy until you were sent to get food and ended up getting bombarded by heart-shaped balloons and flower bouquets at every corner.  
You pushed past the crowds of excited children and lovesick couples, trying to make your way to the small diner in town. You had already gotten some groceries for the week and now wanted to get some dinner for yourself and the boys. You groaned at the sparkly paint decorating the window of the diner, spelling out “Happy Valentine’s Day” in fancy cursive script.  
You made your way to the counter and ordered food to go, making sure to get everyone’s favorites, including Dean’s pie. You also ordered a slice of pie for yourself, deciding that the sugary confection might help you forget about the national romance fest. The hostess smiled and handed you two grocery bags full of to-go boxes, and you paid and left her a tip. You tried not to look at the happy, sappy couples sharing food and kissing each other as you headed back into the streets. February in Oregon was cold, so you paused to pull your jacket tighter around yourself and pulled your knitted beanie down to cover your ears.

A sigh escaped your lips as you kicked on the outside of the motel room door. Your hands were too full to pull out your key. Sam smiled as he opened the door, taking one of the bags from you as you headed inside. You smiled thankfully and set the other bag on the small kitchen counter, trying not to look at Dean.  
“I brought pie,” you said, laughing when he jumped off the couch to come over. You handed him the boxes containing his burger and his pie, as well as a fresh beer from the fridge. Sam took a soda from the fridge, offering you one before he sat down with his salad. He smiled at you in thanks as he began eating, and you nodded in reply, pulling out your own food. You ate quietly, helping Sam with research. Something about Valentine’s made you not want to talk to Dean, for fear of not being able to contain your feelings anymore.  
You looked at the older Winchester from the corner of the room. After he finished his food, he lost himself in some dirty magazine. Despite that habit, just looking at him made you tingle. The fact that it was Valentine’s Day wasn’t helping.  
The more you looked at him, the more your emotions stirred. Your crush that you'd kept inside for so long seemed to expand until it ran out of room inside you. Heart in hand, you took one if the biggest leaps of faith you thought possible.  
Sam had already gone to bed, leaving the two of you relatively alone.  
"Hey Dean?" you began, gaining his attention. Little did you know that you already had it.  
"Yeah, what is it?" he asked. The lump in your throat felt like it would burst through.  
"I was thinking… it's Valentine's Day..." you said slowly, searching your mind for the right words.  
"What is it?" he repeated.  
"I was gonna ask if you would be my Valentine?" you rushed. Now there was no turning back.  
Dean seemed taken aback. Every fiber in his being begged to rip out of his chest and scream "Of course!" But Dean couldn't do that to you. It would only put you in more danger with the demons that constantly followed the Winchesters.  
"I.. I'm sorry. I can't."  
You felt like you had been thrown off a cliff. Every knot inside you snapped. You felt like running away and crying.  
So you did.  
Before Dean could say anything more- explain himself- you were gone, fleeing from the shabby motel and into the cold, dark streets. Tears poured down your cheeks as you ran. You didn’t know where to go, but you couldn’t stay. Not tonight. Dean knew about your feelings now. You couldn’t take it back.  
You could faintly hear a gruff voice calling your name, but knowing who the voice belonged to, you didn’t dare turn back. You ran down the sidewalk with no destination. You didn’t even know if you planned on coming back. You didn’t want to just leave Sam and Dean. You’d grown to love them, in different ways of course, and you wanted to stay with them. But would Dean want you around now that he knew? Probably not. He didn’t feel the same; why would he want to keep you around?  
You leaned against a dumpster in a back alley. You let out an exhausted sigh and slid down to the ground, bringing your knees up to your chest and wrapping your arms around them. Your head dropped forward, your forehead resting on your knee. You tried to calm your breathing, closing your eyes and trying to forget the outside world. You let out a soft groan when you heard heavy booted footsteps approaching.  
“(y/n)?” Dean greeted softly.  
“What?” you replied monotone.  
Though you couldn’t see it, he looked down at his feet with a guilty expression. “Can we talk?”  
“What about?” you asked, finally looking up. “About how I confessed my love for you and got shot down? There isn’t a lot to talk about, is there? The only thing left to determine is should I stay traveling with you and Sam after having confessed, or should I find my own place to stay?”  
His jaw dropped at your suggestion. “You can’t… You can’t just leave. Please, (y/n). We want you around. I want you around. I don’t want you to leave.”  
“Why would you want me around, Dean?” you countered. “I’m still in love with you. You’re still not in love with me. What’s the point?”  
He knelt down beside you on the pavement. “I have a confession to make.”  
You raised a half-interested brow and turned to him.  
He took a breath before continuing. “When I said I couldn’t be your Valentine… It wasn’t because I didn’t return your feelings.”  
Your eyes widened and hope thudded in your chest. “What?”  
He took your cold hands in his much warmer ones. “Hunter relationships don’t last long, and they don’t end well. Demons target me and Sam enough as it is. If you and I got together… It would be dangerous. Demons would come after you just to get to me. I couldn’t knowingly set you up for that.”  
“So… You have feelings for me too?”  
He leaned forward, gently brushing his lips against yours. You leaned into his chest, returning the kiss with all of the passion you’d been bottling up. His arms wrapped around your waist as he stood, gently pulling you up with him. You wrapped your arms around his neck, not caring where he was headed as he lifted you bridal style into his arms.

When you returned to the motel, he carried you inside and lied you down on the bed. You kept your arms around him, silently asking him to lie with you. He smiled and complied, wrapping his arms around you as you curled into his chest.  
“Be my Valentine?” he asked, kissing your forehead.  
You looked up at him with a beaming smile and pressed a kiss to his lips. “Absolutely.”


	19. Sam - The Pastor's Daughter

**The Pastor’s Daughter**  
Request for ReaderChan  
“sam x demon reader. The boys are on a hunt and end up at a church . Sam falls for the preachers daughter .”

Dean rolled his eyes as he sat down beside his brother in a pew at the local church. Sam cleared his throat and elbowed Dean in the side, only earning another eye roll from the older Winchester.  
“It’s just a case,” the younger reasoned quietly.  
“Exactly,” the older countered. “Just a case. Why do we have to go to church for a case?”  
“Because it’s haunted,” Sam reminded.  
Dean scoffed. “It probably isn’t. The God-fearing locals probably just think it’s haunted because they’re religious and have no other mindset to rationalize what’s happening.” (1)  
It was Sam’s turn to roll his eyes. “Something had to have happened for the locals to worry. The death count is real, Dean, regardless of who or what killed them. We need to help these people.”  
“What if it’s not our thing?” Dean countered. “It could just be some crazy guy killing people off and letting everyone’s fear of the ungodly take the blame.”  
“What if it’s really a ghost?” Sam reasoned. “Or some other monster that is very much our thing? We have to at least check it out.”  
Dean let out a sigh and nodded. He zoned out in his own mind until he realized that everyone was leaving. He feigned a smile at the kind old ladies and the intrigued little kids as they walked past him, ready to leave the church. He followed Sam up to the altar, waiting to speak to the pastor after everyone else had gone. They didn’t want to disturb the citizens any more than they already were.  
“Did you two enjoy the sermon?” the pastor asked with a kind smile.  
“Yeah, we did,” Sam nodded before pulling out his badge. “Agents Stark and Banner. We have a couple of questions.”  
The pastor held his arms out in a welcoming manner. “Ask away.”  
“Well, we’ve heard about…” Sam’s train of thought crashed when a young girl with (s/t) and (h/c) hair sauntered up and stood by the pastor.  
“We, uh, we heard about…”  
Dean looked between you and Sam and smirked. “We heard about the recent mysterious deaths around town.”  
The pastor looked down sadly, and they all missed the small smirk that crossed your lips.  
“Yes,” he said softly. “Very sad. What exactly have you heard?”  
“There have been four victims right?” Dean continued. “Four victims in two weeks?”  
The pastor nodded. “Two victims each week. Is that important?”  
“Could be a pattern,” the older brother said. “Were there any witnesses?”  
“There was a witness to the last victim,” the pastor replied. He then caught Sam’s stare and smiled. “Boys, this is my daughter, (y/n).”  
“Agents Stark and Banner,” Dean introduced, holding out a hand. You offered a sweet smile and shook it, though your attention was solely on his long-haired partner.  
“May we talk to the witness?” Sam asked, finally snapping out of his gaze.  
The pastor nodded. “Her name is Ashley Landers. The last victim, Ana Rivers, was her best friend. They were roommates, actually. They live just down the street here. I could show you.”  
Sam nodded. “That would be helpful. Thank you.”  
The pastor turned to you and kissed your forehead. “I’ll see you at home.”  
You nodded and smiled softly. “See you at home, Daddy.” You stared after Sam as the three of them left the church and headed down the road.

“Yeah, Ana was my roommate,” Ashley confirmed as she let Sam and Dean inside. Your dad bid his condolences to the young girl and his goodbyes to the boys before turning to head home.  
Ashley sat down in her armchair and gestured for the boys to sit on the couch. “Ana was like my sister.”  
“We’re very sorry,” Sam said softly. “Where did it happen?”  
“In her bedroom,” Ashley replied, her voice cracking. She cleared her throat to keep the tears from coming. “The investigators said it happened in the middle of the night. I’m a heavy sleeper, so I didn’t hear a thing.”  
“Would you mind explaining what happened?” Dean asked. “We read the police reports but we’d like to hear your side.”  
“Well, I didn’t see anything during,” she replied. “All I have to go on are the police report and the aftermath.”  
“And what was the aftermath?” Sam inquired.  
“There was blood everywhere,” Ashley shuddered. “Her body had dozens of stab wounds everywhere, like she’d been tortured… I can’t even imagine what it was like. I just don’t know how I didn’t wake up. She must have been screaming.”  
Dean nodded. “Has her room been strangely cold? Or anywhere else in the apartment?”  
Ashley thought for a minute. “Not really. I mean, I’ve been keeping up on the bills. Why would the apartment be strangely cold?”  
“No reason,” Sam replied. “Have you noticed anything weird since her death, or before?”  
“Well, I did notice something kinda off when I went into her room with the cops… But it couldn’t be related. It doesn’t make any sense.”  
“What is it?” Dean asked, intrigued.  
“Her whole room smelled like rotten eggs,” Ashley replied. Sam’s eyebrows shot up as he turned to Dean.  
“Does that mean something?” Ashley asked, wondering why the two suddenly looked at each other.  
“Probably nothing,” Dean said. “We’ve just encountered that kind of thing before. Seems to happen a lot after a murder.”  
Ashley nodded cautiously. “Okay then. Can you find her killer?”  
“We’ll do our best,” Dean promised.

“Well, it’s not a ghost,” Sam said as they left Ashley’s apartment.  
“Sounds like a demon,” Dean replied. “Blood, stab wounds, the scent of sulfur.”  
“Now we just have to find out who the demon is and exorcise it,” Sam concluded.  
As they walked down the road, a blood-piercing scream came from the church. The boys broke into a run and rushed inside, and the first thing they saw was the now dead body of one of the church-goers they’d seen earlier that morning. They hadn’t gotten her name, but it didn’t much matter now.  
Sam’s heart fell when he looked up and saw you standing over her body, a sickening grin on your lips and a bloody blade in your hand.  
“(y/n)?” Sam asked brokenly.  
“You’re not FBI agents at all, are you?” you asked tauntingly. You saw the knife subtly hidden in Dean’s sleeve and smirked.  
“And you‘re not the innocent daughter of a pastor,” Dean countered, stepping closer. You took a step back, not realizing that Sam was no longer in front of you. Before you could turn your head, the taller Winchester wrapped his arms around you, restricting any further movement. The action would have made him smile if the situation wasn’t so serious.  
You let out a scream as Dean recited the exorcism spell, holding his knife to your neck in case you tried to run. When he finished the chant, you crumbled to the ground, Sam’s arms slowly loosening. You came to a few seconds later, and Sam’s hazel-brown eyes were the first thing you saw.  
“(y/n)?” he whispered, gently holding you face. Dean stood close enough to attack if you were still a demon, but far enough that you had some sort of privacy with his brother.  
“Are you okay?” he asked, pulling you to a seated position.  
“I think so,” you replied, turning to Dean. “What happened to me?”  
“You were possessed by a demon,” he replied. “We exorcised it.”  
“So I’m okay?” you clarified, looking back at Sam.  
“I think so,” he smiled. He stood, offering you a hand. You placed your hand in his and he pulled you to your feet. You stumbled a bit, crashing into his chest. You looked up at him with a blush on your cheeks and he smiled in return.  
Dean rolled his eyes and walked outside to give you two more privacy.  
Sam rested a hand on your cheek and bent forward, pressing his lips to yours. Your hands rested on his chest as you returned the kiss, letting out a soft sigh. His fingers tangled gently in your hair, keeping you close.  
“I’m glad you’re not a demon anymore,” he said between kisses.  
“I’m glad you were the one to save me,” you replied, reaching up to wrap your arms around his neck.

 

(1) This isn’t meant to be offensive. Before they meet Cas, Dean is pretty anti-religion. He’s usually the one to think that it’s a hoax.


	20. Sam - Imaginary

**Imaginary**  
Request for pyroleigh  
A/N: I recently watched all there is of Season 11 so I wanted to do imaginary friends.  
“The reader is an old friend of Sam and Dean’s. Sam falls for her but believes she’s interested in Dean.”

“Sully, I’m really not sure I can help,” you protested to the chubby man wearing rainbow suspenders. He sighed dramatically in response.  
“But I need your help, (y/n)! Don’t you remember how close we were?”  
“Of course I do,” you assured him, dunking a large sponge into a bucket of soapy water. You had been in your front yard washing your car when Sully appeared. Thankfully no one lived next door, so no one could hear what sounded like you talking to yourself. “But I’m a new hunter. I don’t have a lot of cases under my belt. I wouldn’t even know where to start.”  
“Don’t be offended,” he began, biting his lip nervously, “but you’re not the only hunter I contacted.”  
“Oh?” you replied with interest, dragging the sponge across the windshield. “Who else?”  
“The Winchesters,” he replied.  
You turned to look at him. “You know the Winchesters?”  
He shrugged. “Almost every magical creature knows the Winchesters. Plus, Sam and I were best buddies when he was a kid.”  
“Sam…” you whispered. “I haven’t seen them in years.”  
“You know them personally?” he asked in surprise.  
You nodded. “We were friends when we were kids. I knew about hunting ‘cause of my dad, but I wasn’t allowed to hunt myself. John would drop the boys off at my house when he went on hunting trips and didn’t want them to go.”  
“How old were they?” he asked softly.  
You shrugged. “Sam and I were ten or eleven, so Dean was probably fourteen or fifteen.”  
“I thought John had them hunting non-stop by then.”  
“He tried to, but my dad convinced him that kids needed to be kids every now and then. John would usually leave the boys with us when he was in a bad mood and didn’t feel like parenting for a weekend.”  
“Poor Sam…” Sully whispered.  
You turned to him. “So you’ve seen them? Recently?”  
He nodded. “I just found Sam and asked him for help. Dean thinks it‘s crazy. He doesn’t really believe I’m real.”  
“Sounds like Dean,” you sighed. “John didn’t let him have much of an imagination, so Sam was pretty much alone.”  
Sully nodded. “You could see them again, if you help me. They’ve already agreed. Well, mostly Sam, because Dean still doesn’t believe. But you could all be reunited!”  
You looked at the excited grin on his lips and the desperation in his eyes and sighed softly. “Okay, Sully. I’ll help.”  
He let out a triumphant noise and slid into the passenger seat of your 69 VW Bug. The hot sun had dried all of the water droplets from you rinsing the suds off your car, so you slid into the driver’s seat and stuck the keys in the ignition. Sully smiled at you as you pulled out of the driveway and headed out of the apartment complex.

He directed you to the bunker, and you were surprised to see that the boys had somewhere stable to live. When you’d known them, John was constantly moving around to different motels, dragging the boys with him. The only time they stayed in a house was when they visited Bobby or you. You smiled softly as you pulled into the second driveway of what Sully told you was their bunker. You liked that they had a home again.  
You slowly got out, much less enthusiastic than the zanna beside you. He led you inside and immediately looked for Sam. You found the surprisingly tall and even more surprisingly handsome Winchester in the kitchen, nursing his third cup of coffee as though he were still trying to wrap his head around it.  
He looked up upon hearing Sully enter the room and nearly dropped his coffee cup in surprise. “(y/n)? Is that you?”  
You offered him a shy smile. “Hey, Sam.”  
Dean sauntered into the room, now dressed, and stopped in his tracks upon seeing you. “(y/n)?”  
“Hey boys,” you greeted, offering Dean a wave. Before you could ask how they’d been, you were wrapped in a bone-crushing Dean hug. You laughed softly and wrapped your arms around him in return. You’d missed your boys.  
“What are you doing here?” Sam asked as Dean let you go. You took a minute to breath before you found yourself in Sam’s arms instead. “Do you know Sully?”  
“She was one of my kids,” Sully explained proudly. “I’ve asked her to help out too.”  
“I can’t believe it’s you,” Sam said as he let you go. “How long has it been?”  
“Too long,” you replied, not wanting to do the math. “So what have you guys found out?”

You spent the next few days following the boys and Sully to wherever a new zanna had been murdered. You felt bad for your old imaginary friend. Losing his fellow zanna was really hard on him, though he tried to be strong for Sam.  
Dean had done nothing but flirt with you since you arrived. He constantly had a hand on your waist or in your hair, and there were a few times that he stood so close you thought he was going to make a move. You laughed it off and pushed him away, calling him a flirt and a player, which he laughed at. Sam hadn’t been so light on the actions between the two of you. Instead, he turned away in jealousy, focusing entirely on Sully and his fallen zanna.  
You enjoyed having your Winchesters around again. You’d missed them.  
When you finally found the person responsible for three dead imaginary friends, you were surprised to see it was a young girl. Your heart broke for Sully as he had to face the anger and betrayal of one of his children. You knew he would have never hurt her intentionally, and you wondered if she was really going to kill him, too.  
You stood off to the side, since it wasn’t really your business. Dean could see the sadness in your eyes and held you close, much to Sam’s dismay. The younger Winchester then focused on easing Reese off the edge, trying to convince her to forgive Sully instead of kill him.

All ended well, and you returned to the bunker with the boys. It was late when they got back, so they offered you to spend the night. You were too tired to drive the two hours back to your apartment, so you agreed.  
Since the bunker had so many rooms, they let you choose one instead of sleeping on the couch. You found one close to Sam’s and went in, sitting on the already furnished bed and taking your boots off. You heard footsteps approaching and looked up, smiling when you saw the tall brother standing awkwardly in the doorway.  
“I, uh… I just wanted to say goodnight,” he said.  
You stood and approached him. “Is that all?”  
He looked at you with a mix of emotion in his eyes. Your hands were on his chest as you looked up at him sweetly. You weren’t normally this forward, but the crush you’d had on him as a kid was resurfacing, and you wanted him now.  
“What do you mean?” he asked.  
You stood on your toes, not that it helped much with how tall he was, and pressed your lips to his. He was surprised by the action but soon gave in, resting his large hands on your hips. You let out a contented sigh against his lips before pulling back.  
“I thought…” he murmured, unable to form a complete sentence.  
“You thought what?” you asked, tilting your head.  
“You and Dean…?”  
You giggled and shook your head. “Dean’s just a flirt. You know that. I… I’ve always had feelings for you, Sam.”  
A grin crossed his lips before he placed them back on yours. You pulled him into your room and he closed the door with his foot. His arms wrapped around your waist as he walked you towards your bed, gently lying you down on it before lying beside you. You spent the rest of the night in his warm arms.


	21. Castiel - My Angel

**My Baby**  
Request for kali yugah  
A/N: Mentions of rape. I’ve never written anything that needed a maturity warning. Wow. It’s not graphic. That’s gross. Just mentioned. More like implicated.  
“If it is possible could you do a short where Dean, Sam and Castiel finds a girl taken by one of the monsters (excluding demons as it is over used sometimes) and rescues her. The boys soon quickly form a family connection with her but Castiel can't explain why he feels tied to her till Sam explains that it is love.”

You whimpered and curled into yourself on the velvet-covered bed. You didn’t want to be here. You’d already been here a little over four months – that was a little over four months too long. You were treated surprisingly well, considering where you were. But that didn’t make you want to stay.

You’d been kidnapped a little over four months ago. You were walking down a dimly lit street on your way home from work. Before you could even turn around to see if there was really someone following you or if you were just paranoid, a gloved hand covered your mouth and a strong arm wrapped around your midsection. You were pulled into a dark room full of strangers who all stared at you like you were their next meal.  
They treated you as their next meal until your captor raised a hand, stopping them all in their tracks.  
“She is not to be harmed,” his deep voice bellowed. Whines and grunts flooded the crowd, but one threat from your captor had them scrambling to their rooms. Your heart thudded in your chest as you wondered what would happen. You weren’t to be harmed… but that was a vague statement. What did your captor plan to do with you?  
He led you to a large room decorated with black satin and red velvet. Candles littered the room, and it would be a romantic ambiance if you hadn’t just been kidnapped by strange men. Keeping an arm around your waist, your captor led you to the bed and forced you to sit.  
You stared up at him with fear flooding your (e/c), which had begun to water as you tried to blink back tears. He seemed disappointed in your displeasure as he sat beside you, leaning close. You scooted away, further onto the bed, until your back hit the pile of throw pillows at the head of the bed. He rested a hand on either side of you, hovering above you and following you as you backed away. You ended up lying down beneath him, which only scared you further. You bit back a frightened whimper as he leaned in, rubbing his nose against your cheek. You squeezed your eyes shut and felt his surprisingly soft lips brush against your jaw. A gloved hand gripped your chin and forced you to face him, though you kept your eyes closed. He pressed his lips to yours, ignoring your fists pounding against his chest or the protesting grunts coming from your throat. He took both of your hands in his free one and pinned them above your head, restricting your protests. You let out a cry when you realized where the night was going…

Your captor, whose name you learned was Jax, had been relatively kind to you. He got irrationally angry whenever he thought you wanted to leave, but other than he treated you nicely, bringing you meals and letting you hide in his room instead of socializing with his cult members. You knew what they really were, but calling them a cult made you feel a little bit better.  
You wanted to run away, every second of every day. But you kept it to yourself. You knew it would only anger Jax, and you really needed him to be on your side. You weren’t… well… and he was the only one being kind to you. Other inhabitants of this hideout had tried to visit you under the pretense of bringing you nourishment, but when Jax learned of their true intentions, which were no more noble than his had been, he quickly banned any of them from coming to his- your- room.  
You were afraid of the lot of them. You knew they were all capable of breaking every bone in your body, though any one that tried would have to face Jax’s wrath, and he was frightening. Still, you dreamed of leaving. You dreamed of returning to your life and your job and your apartment. You hadn’t left this underground hideout in a little over four months.

Dean jerked his head toward an old-fashioned wooden door, and Sam followed him. He knocked on the old door and, having received no answer, kicked it in. It buckled easily, having not been updated in decades. Dean entered hesitantly, gun outstretched with one hand and a machete in the other. Sam followed suit, his weapons carried in the same fashion. The room was dark and lifeless, with no signs of inhabitants anywhere.  
As they headed further into the room, they could hear noises coming from beneath the floorboards. Dean knelt down and began prying some of the looser ones off, spotting a group of sleeping creatures down below. He nodded to Sam who continued further into the room, looking for stairs or a secret passage. He found an old, ratty rug and kicked it aside, revealing a door handle attached to a large floorboard. He knelt down and pulled on it, finding that it gave easily. He gestured to Dean who quickly padded over, and they descended the stairs descending from the floorboard into a hidden room.  
They quietly sauntered through the room, careful not to wake the nocturnally sleeping creatures. The boys had been tracking this group of vamps for a couple of weeks and had finally found their hideout.  
Before they could look around, they heard footsteps. The head vamp had caught the hunters, and he let out a growl. The rest of the creatures were up in a second, fangs bared and ready to attack. They lunged at the Winchesters all at once, overwhelming the pair of hunters so they were slowed down. They took turns swinging, decapitating as many vamps as they could. When the chaos died down, they looked around to find that all they had left was the head vamp. He was headed towards a room, so the boys quickly chased after him. He nearly closed the door behind him, but Dean pushed his way through. Sam swung his machete and sliced the vamp‘s head before they noticed you.  
Dean looked at Sam. “I think that’s all of them.”  
But Sam was looking at you as you cowered away from him.  
“Are you one of them?” he asked.  
You shook your head vigorously.  
“Why are you here?” Dean inquired.  
“The leader,” you began, gesturing towards the dead vamp on the floor, “kidnapped me about four months ago. He’s kept me in this room since.”  
Sam looked at his brother. “We should help her.”  
Dean stared you down before stepping closer. You shrunk back out of habit, letting out a whimper when he grabbed your face. He lifted your upper lip, nodding curtly when you showed no signs of having extra teeth. “You can come with us.”  
Your eyes lit up like a Christmas tree. “What? Really? You can get me out?”  
They nodded in unison.  
“You haven’t left this room in four months?” Sam clarified as he helped you off the bed. You were weak from a bad diet and being locked inside. Plus you’d been feeling sick during the four months you were stuck here, so you could barely move.  
You nodded. “Jax wouldn’t let me leave. He wouldn’t even let the other vamps come in here.”  
“You knew about them?” Dean asked as he led you out to the Impala.  
You nodded. “I didn’t know at first but after I saw Jax attack one… I figured it out.”  
“Why wouldn’t he let the others visit you?” Sam inquired, opened the door and helping you into the backseat.  
You blushed and looked down at your lap. “They… they got too… friendly…”  
He nodded in understanding and slid into the front seat, not wanting to humiliate you by asking any more questions.  
Dean drove back to the bunker, and he called for Cas to help while Sam helped you pick out a guest room. They decided to let you stay until you got back on your feet.

Cas knew why you were sick the moment he looked at you. He placed a hand on your abdomen to check, nodding to himself.  
“You know why I’m sick?” you asked in surprise. You’d heard of angels, but you’d never met one. You didn’t know what powers they had.  
He nodded. “You’re pregnant.”  
Your jaw fell open, as did Dean’s and Sam’s. You stared at Cas who simply looked at you like nothing was wrong.  
“I’m… pregnant?” you repeated, your voice barely above a whisper. Cas nodded again.  
“Do you know… who the father is?” Dean asked softly.  
“I have an idea,” you replied brokenly, falling back onto the sofa behind you.  
Sam caught the look on your face and sighed sympathetically. “Was it Jax?”  
You rested your face in your hands and nodded pathetically. Sam sat beside you and rubbed your back gently. You blew out a sigh. How were you going to get through this?

Over the next few months, Sam and Dean had let you stay at the bunker. You didn’t have anywhere else to go, and you didn’t want to be alone and pregnant. The boys acted like protective older brothers and took care of anything you needed. Dean always cooked for you and Sam was always ready to run to the store to satisfy your random cravings.  
Cas, on the other hand, felt differently. Whenever he saw you, tingles flooded his belly, like a dozen butterflies were fluttering around in there. A blush heated his cheeks and he felt nothing but happiness, though he was often awkward and couldn’t form a complete sentence around you. He didn’t understand the mix of nerves and happiness that flooded him when he entered a room you were in.  
He went to Sam about this issue. Dean was more blunt and confrontational, and he didn’t want to risk making you uncomfortable, so he went to the gentler Winchester.  
Sam smiled when Cas explained his symptoms. “Cas, you’re in love with her.”  
“I am?” Cas asked in confusion.  
Sam nodded. “The best thing to do is talk to her about it. I have a feeling she likes you too.”  
“Likes or loves?” Cas clarified, tilting his head.  
Sam chuckled. “You’ll have to ask her.”

You were in the kitchen making a cup of tea. You liked to do some things by yourself, without help. You smiled when Cas entered the room before you sat down at the table.  
“(y/n)? Can we talk?” he asked softly.  
“Of course,” you nodded, taking a sip of your tea. Cas sat beside you at the table, pretending to focus on the steam rising out of your tea.  
“I’ve been… having these feelings… about you…” he began awkwardly. You smiled at the blush on his cheeks.  
“What kind of feelings?” you asked softly.  
“I spoke to Sam… and he said that… I’m in love with you.”  
You stared at the angel in awe. “Really?”  
He nodded quickly, looking down at his lap. “I understand… if you don’t feel the same…”  
You leaned forward and pressed a chaste kiss to his cheek. “I actually do, Cas.”  
He turned to you with wide eyes. “You do?”  
You nodded with a small smile, reaching out for his hand. He accepted the gesture and laced his fingers between yours, squeezing lightly.  
“Cas…” you began softly.  
“Hm?” he hummed in reply.  
“I’m pregnant,” you reminded.  
He nodded. “I’m aware.”  
“You’re okay with that?” you asked.  
He turned to face you and gazed into your eyes. “(y/n), I’m in love with you. I want to always be there for you. I want to help you through your pregnancy.”  
You smiled up at him and leaned forward. He copied your action and brought a hand up to cup your cheek. Your lips met in the middle, and you could tell he hadn’t had much experience. You rested a hand on his chest and shifted to sit on his lap. You tilted your head for a better angle, wrapping your other arm around his neck.  
He pulled back to give you air and smiled up at you. “Are you my girlfriend now?”  
You giggled at his awkwardness and nodded. “Yes, I am.”


	22. Dean - Lips of an Angel

**Lips of an Angel**  
Request for shaylee ann oster  
A/N: It’s funny to write about Sam while watching Gilmore Girls.  
“Hi I was wondering if you could do a dean x reader on your supernatural x reader where she is cas and gabes sister but has known Sam and dean for a long time and he thinks she likes Sam even though he has feelings for her.”

Though Dean was skeptical about angels for most of his life, he had gotten used to them popping into his and Sam’s motel room without much warning. Cas was usually helpful or at least polite, while the more rambunctious angels like Balthazar and Gabriel liked to play pranks on the hunters.  
You were one of their preferred guests. You’d first met the boys under false pretenses. You liked posing as a human in your free time to learn how they interacted and behaved. Castiel recognized your angel spirit but didn’t think it important to tell the boys, so for all they knew, you were a human that met Castiel a long time ago.  
You usually visited them on Castiel’s arm, so they initially assumed you were his human girlfriend. Dean had clapped the angel on the shoulder with a congratulatory grin, to which Cas replied with a confused stare. Dean’s grin faltered as he looked between the two of you. Cas explained that you were his sister, not his girlfriend, nor were you human.  
“Why didn’t you tell us?” Dean had asked, feeling offended.  
Cas had shrugged. “You didn’t ask.”  
Dean had opened his mouth to argue, but found that Cas was right, and he didn’t have much of an argument.

You were quiet and polite and tried not to cause trouble. You often calmed Gabe and Balthazar when they got too rowdy. Dean appreciated your placid demeanor and how you tried to give warning before you popped in. All those years of observing humans had come in handy.  
You became quite close to the boys. Dean didn’t talk to you very much, which led you to bond with Sam. He didn’t mind your angel ancestry, treating you like a regular human, which you enjoyed. He would invite you to movie nights and quickly learned your favorites. While you sat on Sam’s bed with your eyes glued to the TV screen, Dean watched you from the sink that served as a kitchen counter. He thought your vessel- though he associated you with your vessel like you were one in the same- was beautiful, with your (h/l) (h/c) locks pushed behind your ears and your sparkling (e/c) lost in the movie.  
Dean’s chest rumbled with jealousy as Sam’s arm draped around your shoulders, allowing you to snuggle into his side. Your head rested on his shoulder, unaware of the cold daggers Dean was glaring into his brother’s head.

“I’m sure Dean doesn’t have a problem with you,” Sam insisted as you sat at the small table in the room. Dean was out getting food, so you were alone with the younger Winchester.  
“Then why doesn’t he talk to me?” you asked. “I’ve watched humans for a long time. When people are unhappy with one another, they don’t talk.”  
Sam chuckled. He loved not having to explain every little glance to you like he had to with Cas. “There are other reasons to avoid someone.”  
“Like what?” you asked, tilting your head. You must have missed the other reasons to not look or talk your supposed friend.  
“He likes you,” Sam said simply, smiling at you.  
“Yes, that’s why he lets me visit,” you agreed with a nod. “That doesn’t explain why he’s ignoring me.”  
“No, he really likes you,” Sam explained. “You’ve observed humans dating, right?”  
A blush stained your cheeks as you understood his implication. “Dean likes me… like that?”  
He nodded, still smiling. “He’s just not good with emotions. He doesn’t know how to interact when he’s not supposed to kill the thing he’s interacting with.”  
You chewed your lower lip and nodded in understanding. “What do I do now?”  
“Talk to him,” he replied. Just then, the motel door opened, revealing Dean with bags full of food in both hands.  
“What are you two talking about?” he asked, more teasingly than he intended. There was a hint of jealousy in his voice at seeing you two so close; a hint which you wouldn’t have noticed before.  
“Nothing,” you replied softly. You stood from your chair and helped him empty the bags. He offered you the ghost of a smile, and Sam stood up and headed for the door.  
“You forgot drinks,” Sam said, ignoring the two two-liter soda bottles and the six pack of beer Dean was setting on the counter. Before the older brother could reply, Sam slipped out of the room and headed down the hall.  
Dean shook his head. He wondered what Sam was up to, but he couldn’t deny that he enjoyed being alone with you. “So what were you two talking about?”  
You stood beside him and leaned against the counter. “You…”  
He looked quizzically at you. “Me?”  
You nodded softly.  
“What about me?” he asked with a small smirk.  
A blush stained your cheeks as you stared at the counter. “Sam has this… idea… about you…”  
Dean raised a brow. “What idea?”  
“He thinks that you like me…”  
“Of course I like you,” he replied. “I let you visit, don’t I?”  
“That’s what I said… but he thinks that you like me more than that.”  
Dean stopped in his tracks, one hand holding a bottle of beer while the other was ready to pop the cap. His breathing deepened and he slowly turned to look at you. “He does, huh?”  
You took his lack of response as a denial. Your gaze dropped to your feet as rejection swelled in your chest. “Yeah… Sorry I brought it up. I guess it was a stupid idea.”  
You turned away, ready to disappear, when he spoke again.  
“Doesn’t Sam like you that way?” he asked.  
You turned back to look at him. “What?”  
“I thought you and Sam…”  
You shook your head. “We’re friends. I… I like someone else.”  
He stepped closer, looking down as he was a head taller than you. “Care to elaborate?”  
You looked up at him. You reached out tentatively to place your hands on his chest. When he didn’t pull away, you nibbled your lower lip. “Was Sam right?”  
He dipped his head to capture your lips before he could stop himself. You responded hesitantly, having never kissed someone. His hands rested on your hips, pulling you close. Your hands grasped at the edges of his jacket.  
He nodded as he pulled back. “Sam was right.”  
You grinned and leaned in to kiss him again.


	23. Dean - Where'd You Go?

**Where’d You Go?**  
Request for Miriam Thordottir  
“Dean goes missing and the reader panics and gets Sam and Cas to help her find him.”

“What do you mean, Dean’s gone?” Sam asked on the other end of the phone.  
“He’s gone, Sam!” you cried into the receiver. You were pacing around the shabby motel room that you and the boys had chosen for the few days they were hunting. Sam knew that you and Dean deserved some alone time, so he offered to take Cas on the hunt so Dean could stay behind. The hunt had just started the day before, and now Dean was gone without so much as a chicken-scratch note.  
“Maybe he just went to the store,” Sam suggested.  
You sighed. “So he just decided to walk to the store without even leaving a note?”  
“I don’t know, (y/n),” Sam replied. You could hear in his voice that he hated not being able to help. “Cas and I are almost done with the hunt. Then we’ll come back and help you find Dean.”  
“Thanks, Sam,” you replied, pressing the “End Call” button on your screen and sitting on the uncomfortable motel bed. You turned on the TV and tried to distract yourself until they returned.

The next afternoon, you heard the low rumble of the Impala pull up outside the motel. For a second your heart skipped a beat, thinking Dean was back, but then you remembered that Sam and Cas had the car. Your hope fell as the door opened to reveal the younger Winchester and their angel friend.  
“How are you holding up?” Sam asked, sitting beside you.  
You sighed. “I have no idea where he is.”  
He rested a hand on your back. “We’ll find him,” he promised. He pulled out his phone, tapping the screen. “If his phone is on, I should be able to track it.”  
You leaned over his side, watching the screen of his phone as he activated the GPS app. A small red light appeared on the map, a few miles away from the motel according to the directions.  
“Where is that?” you wondered aloud. “Is it a bar?”  
Worry flooded you. What if Dean was in a bar? What if he was with someone in a bar? What if he was leaving you?  
Sam saw the concern in your eyes and pulled you into a side hug. “I’m sure it’s nothing. Come on. We’ll go where the map says he is.”  
You nodded and stood, trying to keep confident as you followed the younger Winchester out to the Impala.

When you arrived where the GPS said Dean was, you were surprised to find it was a shopping mall.  
“This doesn’t sound like Dean,” you commented, getting out of the car. Sam nodded in agreement and headed into the mall. He stopped at the door and waited for you, smiling softly when you clung to his arm. You didn’t know what to expect. What would Dean be doing in a mall?  
“Is the GPS still on?” you asked, looking up at the brunette. “Maybe we can track it to what store he’s in.”  
Sam nodded, pulling his phone from his pocket. The red dot remained on the screen, revealing where Dean was hiding. The two of you headed into the mall, which was loud and busy with floods of people in every direction. You almost weren’t sure you’d be able to find Dean even with the GPS tracker.  
You had to weave in-between people, clinging to Sam. You looked around, keeping your eyes open for the tall hunter who seemed to be nowhere. You looked up at Sam as he held up his phone. “Any ideas?”  
“We’re close,” he replied, nodding to the right. You shied away from a couple of loud teenage girls, walking around them to head around the corner. The next hallway was slightly less packed but it was still loud and obnoxious.  
“Is that him?” you asked, standing on your toes to see over the sea of people when you could have sworn you saw a flash of a familiar leather jacket.  
Sam nodded and walked faster, occasionally glancing at his phone to make sure Dean hadn’t moved. Sam’s height and build helped keep you from getting squished in the mass of people as you made your way to the end of the hallway.  
“We just missed him,” Sam sighed when you reached the second to last stand in the hall. There were fewer people at this end, so you could actually look around and feel the air around you.  
You turned to look at the last spot where the GPS said Dean had been. It was a high-class jewelry store, which caused you to tilt your head in confusion. “Why would he be here?”  
Realization flashed on Sam’s face, but he wiped it away before you looked up at him. “I don’t know,” he shrugged. “Come on. He went to the left.”  
You followed the young moose through the crowd and down another hallway. Your worry mixed with confusion and you desperately wanted to find your boyfriend.

You finally found him eating a McDonald’s apple pie in the food court. You almost laughed at the sight, but you were overwhelmed by the fact that you had found him.  
“Dean!” you yelled.  
He almost jumped in surprise and seemed to stuff something in his pocket before turning to look at you and Sam. “What are you two doing here?”  
“What are you doing here?” Sam countered, heading over to the small plastic table his brother was seated at.  
“Just had some stuff to do,” Dean shrugged.  
“You couldn’t at least tell me you were leaving?” you demanded, anger weighing over your worry and confusion. “I woke up and you were gone with no note or anything and I had no idea where you were!”  
Guilt was clear on the older Winchester’s face. “I’m sorry babe. I just got inspired and I had to run to the store and I didn’t think about leaving a note.”  
Sam looked between the two of you and sauntered away, heading to buy himself a salad while you talked to your boyfriend.  
“What was so important that you had to walk two miles to a shopping mall without telling your girlfriend that you were leaving?” you asked, sitting across from him at the table.  
He stared at you as though he didn’t want to say. You looked down at the table and let out a sigh.  
“Fine. Don’t tell me. It’s not like I, as your girlfriend, deserve to know where the Hell you’ve been all day.” You stood and prepared to walk away from the table, the concern you’d felt all day slowly fading.  
A hand grabbed your left wrist, causing you to turn on your heel. He slid out of his chair before dropping to one knee, thrusting a hand into his pants pocket. The hand wrapped around your wrist slid to gently hold your hand, his thumb brushing over your knuckles.  
“Dean?” you asked cautiously.  
“This is where the Hell I’ve been all day,” he said, pulling a small box from his pocket. “And this is what I’ve been doing.” He popped the box open and held it out to you, revealing a small (f/gemstone) sitting in the middle of a silver band.  
“Dean…” you breathed, realizing what this meant. You didn’t see Sam watching from a few feet away with a knowing smile on his lips.  
“(y/n), you’re wonderful. You put up with so much from me. I could never ask for anyone better. I love you, (y/n), and I never want to be without you. Will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”  
You smiled softly and nodded. “Yeah, I will.”  
He grinned and removed the ring from the box, sliding it onto your finger. He then stood and wrapped his arms around your waist, bringing you close to press his lips to yours. You hadn’t noticed in the moment that you’d gained the attention of every person in the cafeteria, and as you wrapped your arms around his neck, cheers and applause erupted throughout the mall.  
You let out a giggle as you pulled back, looking up at him. “You just proposed to me.”  
He laughed and kissed your lips again. “Yes, I did.”


	24. Dean - Swan Lake

**Swan Lake**  
Request for sunorange  
A/N: I know very little about ballet aside from outfits and a couple of shows.  
“could you do a dean one where the reader is a ballerina?”

You let out a sigh as you returned to your dorm room after a long day of ballet practice. You set your bag down by your bed and slipped off your shoes, pulling a tank top and lounge pants from your dresser before heading into the bathroom for a much-needed shower. You slid out of your white leotard and tights, setting them aside to be washed before stepping into the steamy shower, letting the warm water cascade over your body.  
You needed something to help you relax after all the work you’d been doing. Your class was training to perform Swan Lake which would be showing in two weeks, so practice ran longer and exerted more energy. On top of that, finals were coming up, so you had double homework to finish. Thankfully, your roommate Andrea was in the show and in most of your classes, so you were able to share notes and vent to one another about how tired you were.  
You turned off the water and stepped out of the tub, wrapping a towel around your body. You changed into the tank top and lounge pants you’d picked out before brushing your long, slightly tangled locks and pulling them back into a braid. You left the bathroom and shoved your clothes into your hamper, then padded over to the small fridge that contained a few snack foods and a lot of water and juice. You took a bottle of flavored water from the door and sat on your bed, picking up your book bag from the floor so you could start on some homework. Andrea was out with her boyfriend, so you had the room to yourself for a few hours.

The next morning was a nightmare. You awoke to find blood all over the walls and the remains of Andrea’s body scattered in her bed. You let out an ear-piercing scream, calling the attention of every passerby in the building. The dorm advisor came running in, covering her hands to stifle a gasp when she saw Andrea’s side of the room. Students rushed in to see the trouble, their expressions soon turning from fascinated to horrified. A couple of them even threw up.  
You sat numbly in the cafeteria as your dorm advisor spoke to the police. You told them as much as you could about who Andrea was and where she’d been, but you weren’t of much use since you hadn’t seen anything out of the ordinary. All classes had been cancelled for the rest of the week, so most students were in their own dorm rooms consoling one another. Most of them didn’t know you or Andrea, but a killing at their own school was still traumatizing. (1) Those that did know the two of you had come by to offer hugs and apologies before taking their breakfast and heading back to their rooms. You remained in the cafeteria, staying there until the police dismissed you.  
Two men in black suits approached you. You didn’t look up at them until they called your name. They were both handsome, though you found the shorter-haired one to be more so. They introduced themselves as Agents Christo and Smith, to which you nodded to show that you had heard them.  
“You were Andrea’s roommate?” the short-haired one, Agent Christo, asked.  
You nodded again.  
“Were you good friends?” the longer-haired one asked gently.  
“Best friends…” you replied brokenly. “We had a lot of classes together, and we were in ballet together.”  
“Can you think of anyone who would want to hurt her?” he inquired.  
You shook your head. “Everyone loved her. I mean, there were a few kids that didn’t, but that’s college. You can’t get along with everyone. No one hated her, though.”  
“What was she doing the night she was killed?” Agent Christo asked.  
“As far as I know, she was with her boyfriend after ballet practice. We usually both head home and change, but her boyfriend picked her up at the studio, so I went home by myself and I didn’t see her again until… this morning…” You looked down at your lap.  
“We’re very sorry for your loss,” Agent Smith said, and you could see the sincerity in his eyes.  
They told you that you could leave, so you nodded and headed back to your room, grabbing a muffin and some coffee on the way out. They then decided to hang around and see if anyone else got hurt.

A few days later, another girl from your ballet troupe turned up dead. She was found in her car, alone, her remains much the same as Andrea’s and the same amount of blood.  
Agents Christo and Smith hung around the campus still, and just their presence had you shaking, because you knew that if they were still there, that meant there was another killing, or that there was going to be. They were nice men and you hoped that they would find the monster that was killing your friends.  
Swan Lake was now only a week away, and you were more nervous than ever. You had confidence in your performance, but with two ballerinas dead… What if it was trend, not a coincidence? What if someone was picking off ballerinas? What if you were next?  
You tried to assure yourself that this psycho wouldn’t attack you during the performance in front of hundreds of people. But that was still a week away. A week was plenty of time to take you out…  
Christo and Smith seemed to sense your concern, as they pulled you aside after speaking with the police about the second murder.  
“We won’t let anything happen to you,” Smith promised. You nodded, trying to feign assurance in his words. You never were a very good liar.  
“Is there anyone you can stay with?” Christo suggested. “It might help you feel better.”  
“It wouldn’t keep me safe,” you pointed out. “I was in the room when Andrea was killed.”  
The men shared a look and Smith let out a sigh. He turned to you. “I promise, nothing will happen to you. I know it doesn’t sound like much now, but you have to believe us.”  
Something about them, their humanity and good nature, made you want to believe them. You nodded again, feeling slightly more confident.  
“Maybe you two should come to the show,” you suggested. “Since it’s ballerinas getting killed off… Maybe the killer will be there.”  
Christo nodded. “That’s a good idea.”

It was now opening night.  
You were backstage with your fellow ballerinas, all dressed up and waiting for the director. You were clad in a white leotard with feathers on the sleeves and adorned with sequins. A puffy white tutu was secured around your waist and your legs were covered by sheer white tights. White satin slippers covered your feet and your hair was pulled back tightly but elegantly. Your eyes were decorated with silver sparkles and your lips shimmered with gloss.  
Your nerves were high, and it had little to do with the fact that you were minutes away from performing. Butterflies fluttered around in your belly, partially because you were afraid of being the next target, and partially because you knew Agents Christo and Smith would be in the audience.  
No one else had died since the second victim, for which you were grateful, but it did little to calm your nerves.  
“This is it, girls,” your instructor stated, gathering the lot of you in a circle backstage. “Let’s go out there and show them the best performance of Swan Lake they’ve ever seen!”  
The girls cheered with excitement and you feigned a smile. You took in a breath and took your position as the curtain drew open, revealing you and a handful of other ladies.  
Sam and Dean, or Smith and Christo as you knew them, were mesmerized by your performance. Sam enjoyed the entire show, while Dean’s eyes were fixated on you. Sam was normally the one to fall in love with an innocent case witness and never want to leave, but Dean felt himself being pulled in with your every step and pirouette. He had never felt so attached. He was normally a one night stand type of guy, but he wanted to get to know you, and perhaps form a relationship.  
But that was crazy. There was no room for love in a hunter’s life, and he barely knew you. There was no way you’d accept his interest.

Sam and Dean caught the killer during the show. He was an old pupil of your instructor’s, and he’d been infatuated with her when he was in the class. The infatuated had grown into full blown obsession and he began stalking her. When she consistently turned him away, his obsession morphed into a jealous rage, and he decided to hurt her as badly as he’d been hurt by taking out those who meant the most to her – her new students.  
She was overwhelmed to learn what had been going on, but no one else had been hurt, and the police were caught to escort the creep to jail. When the show was done, you ran into the audience to thank the boys for catching him.  
“And thanks for keeping me safe,” you added. “Something told me I could trust you guys.”  
“Anytime,” Dean smiled. Sam sent him a look before sauntering away to speak to the instructor and congratulate her on a wonderful show.  
You stared up at Agent Christo and before you could stop yourself, your hands were gripping his lapels and you pulled his lips down to yours. You were slightly surprised to feel him return the kiss instead of pushing you away. His hands found your hips and he tilted his head for a better angle. You sighed softly against his lips before you pulled away.  
“Thanks for everything, Agent Christo,” you whispered, looking up at him.  
“It’s what we do,” he replied with a shrug. “And the name is Dean. Dean Winchester.”  
You beamed up at him, but your excitement fell when he shared a look with his partner. “Do you have to go?”  
He nodded sullenly. “We have more work to do.” He lifted your hand to his lips and kissed the back of it. “But I promise to visit.”  
“I’ll hold you to that,” you countered. You took a pen from his jacket pocket and scribbled your number on the back of his program before handing it to him. “I hope next time you come to town it’s for something happier than a murder.”  
He chuckled and folded the program, stuffing it into his pocket. “I’m sure it will be.”  
He pecked your lips once more before turning to follow Sam out of the building. You absent-mindedly touched your lips as you watched them go.

 

(1) I actually went through this recently. I wasn’t on campus and didn’t know anyone that got hurt, but it’s still freaky.


	25. Sam - Into the Woods

**Into the Woods**  
Request for Miriam Thordottir  
“Daddy Sam x child! Reader. Maybe the reader hides in the Impalla and goes with Sam and Dean on a hunt but gets lots in the woods?”  
A/N: Reader is a toddler.

“Be good for Uncle Bobby, okay?” Sam cooed, holding you in his arms.  
“Okay, Daddy,” you replied, tripping over your tongue. You let out a giggle as he kissed your head and passed you to Dean, who repeated the action.  
“We’ll pick you up as soon as we can,” he promised, and you nodded.  
“Okay, Uncle Dean,” you agreed as he set you on the floor. You immediately ran to Bobby who was standing in the middle of the room. A soft smile graced his scruffy face as he bent down to pick you up, resting you on his hip while you waved goodbye to your dad and uncle.  
“I hungry, Bobby,” you told the older man. He nodded and carried you into the kitchen, setting you on the counter before looking through the fridge.  
“You want pancakes, pumpkin?” he offered, watching your eyes light up like a Christmas tree.  
“Pancakes!” you cried happily. “With boo-berries!”  
He nodded, knowing that you meant blueberries in the pancakes. They were your favorite, after all. He got out the box of Bisquick for the pancake batter and a container of blueberries from the fridge. You snuck a couple of berries, popping them into your mouth while he finished up the batter and took a frying pan from the drawer beneath the stove. He glared at you playfully, earning giggle from your throat. He snagged the container from you and poured the remaining blueberries into the bowl of batter, stirring them fore ladling some of the berry-filled batter into the now hot pan.

After breakfast, Bobby fell asleep on the couch. You were seated on the floor, watching Scooby Doo when you heard the familiar rumble of Uncle Dean’s Impala pulling up outside. You excitedly ran to the door, pouting when you found that you were still too short to reach the knob. It turned on its own, and the door swung open to reveal Daddy and Uncle Dean. You squealed excitedly as Sam picked you up and cradled you against his chest.  
“We can’t stay, honey,” he said apologetically. “We just have to find a spell.”  
You pouted again and let your head fall against his chest. He rubbed your back soothingly and carried you into the study where Dean was combing through Bobby’s books. You wriggled against Sam’s grasp and he set you on the floor, watching you run back into the living room with a soft smile on his face. You loved your cartoons.  
You were about to sit down and return to Scooby Doo when an idea hit you. You turned your head to the door and found that you could still hear Dean’s car roaring impatiently. You turned to ensure that Bobby was still sleeping and Daddy and Dean were still in the study before tip-toeing over to the door. You stood on a couple of books to reach the knob, nearly crying out in success when you got the door to open. You closed the door and ran down the porch steps towards the Impala.  
Sam and Dean left the study and headed towards the door.  
“Goodbye, (y/n)!” Sam called, figuring that you had gone upstairs. You were a clever four-year-old, and Sam knew you would wake Bobby up if there were any issues. So he and Dean headed out to the car to continue their hunt.

They hadn’t noticed their stowaway. They parked the Impala on the side of the road by the woods and got out, venturing into the leafy darkness, armed with all the weapons that lore told them they would need. You got bored hiding under the backseat and decided to follow them. It took a few minutes to open the door, because your tiny hands hadn’t gotten used to pulling the handle yet. You jumped out of the car and closed the door, stumbling over a rock as you made your way to the woods. You immediately realized that your feet would get cold since you’d neglected the thought of putting on shoes, but it didn’t matter much now. You were curious, albeit a bit scared, about the woods and what Daddy and Uncle Dean were doing here.  
The problem about the woods is that every turn looks the same, and you quickly became lost. A pout fell on your lips and tears pooled in your eyes as you turned on your heel, unable to tell which direction the Impala was in. You couldn’t hear Sam or Dean, either, and that frightened you the most. Where was Daddy? Why wasn’t he coming to find you?

Sam and Dean finished the wendigo they’d been hunting and headed back to the car. They were tired, having both taken blows from the monster before they managed to kill it. Sam pulled out his phone on the way and called Bobby to check on you.  
“Sam… she’s gone…” Bobby reluctantly replied.  
“What do you mean, she’s gone?!” Sam cried. Dean turned to face him inquisitively.  
“She’s not here, Sam. I’ve looked everywhere.”  
“She was there when we came back for supplies! Where could she have-“ Sam paused and turned to Dean. “What if she followed us?”  
“How?” Dean asked.  
Sam turned around to look at the back. “She’s small. She could have hidden under the back seat. What if she stowed away in the car and now she’s lost in the woods?”  
Dean immediately turned off the car and hopped out, making sure he had a flashlight. Sam followed suit, promising to keep Bobby updated before he hung up. They ran back into the woods, calling out your name.  
You thought you heard Daddy’s voice, so you headed in that direction. But you couldn’t see him, and his voice wasn’t getting any louder. You eventually sat down on a boulder, your body shaking with sobs as you wondered if they would ever find you.

Sam took out his phone, earning a confused expression from Dean.  
“What are you doing?” the older brother asked.  
Sam tapped the screen and the theme of your favorite TV show began playing. Dean nodded in understanding, silently applauding his brother for the intelligence.  
You heard the telltale sound of (show)’s opening title and ran towards it. Your four-year-old mind was easily distracted, and though you were still worried about finding Sam and Dean, you had a new focus.  
You let out a cry of excitement when Sam’s tall figure came into view. You ran towards him, immediately swept up in his long, warm arms.  
“Are you okay?” he asked, holding you against his chest. Dean stood by him, resting a hand on the back of your head.  
You nodded, tears still spilling down your cheeks as you buried your face in Sam’s chest.  
“No more hiding, okay?” Sam said softly but sternly, looking at you.  
You nodded again. “Pwomise.”  
He smiled and held you close, carrying you to the Impala, the three of you finally going home.


	26. Lucifer - What's Meant to Be

**What’s Meant to Be**  
Request for LightNight and Sarah Winchester  
A/N: Check out my OC story!  
“Can I request a Lucifer x Reader one shot where the reader is a hunter and he/she goes on a solo hunt and almost dies. He/she wakes up, to his/her surprise and there's a guy sitting next to him/her. He explains himself and that he is Licifer her guardian Angel and the reader turns out to be one of the few people that doesn't think Lucifer is all that bad, and they kiss??”

You cursed yourself as you were tied securely to a cold chair, hidden deep within the vampire nest. You glared at the smug monsters that looked down at you with judgmental stares and triumphant smirks. You knew they were proud of themselves for capturing the foolish hunter that had decided to pursue them without backup. It had been a miscalculation on your part. You’d been tracking them for a couple of weeks, trying to find their nest. Other than the fact that was a well-hidden nest, there were no indicators to make you believe there were more than a few vamps total.   
“What will you do now, hunter?” the lead vamp asked tauntingly, dragging a long nail down your jaw. “You have no backup, do you? You’re all alone. We could kill you right here and now and no one would know.”  
You tried not to believe his jabs, knowing that he was just trying to get a rise from you. You glared up at him, feigning disinterest. “For all you know, the Winchesters could be on their way right now.”  
He tried to hide it, but you saw the vamp wince. You bit back a smirk. Those boys had developed quite a reputation. They struck fear into lessor monsters like these vampires.  
He raised a hand and brought it down hard against your cheek. The slap resounded through the lair, and the lower ranking monsters backed away in fear of their leader. You gritted your teeth and turned your head as his fingers slipped from your cheek. You clenched your fists behind your back, desperately wishing there was some way to get out of this. You had no backup. You had only met the Winchesters once. There was no one coming to help you.  
The lead vamp loomed over you. He braced one hand on your shoulder and wrapped the other around your neck just below your jaw, tilting your head and stretching your neck. You bit back a whimper as he brushed his lips against your neck, his jaw opening and his second row of teeth protruding past his gums. He let out a growl of anticipation before sinking his sharp second row into your neck, and you cried out in surprise and pain. The other vamps dispersed, leaving their leader to his business. You soon lost consciousness from blood loss, your head falling back against the chair as the world faded to black.

A soft groan of discomfort floated from your lips as your eyes fluttered open, slowly adjusting to the bright light flooding the room. You blinked a few times to understand that you were awake and looked around at the pale white walls and ceiling. You turned your head to the left, your gaze falling upon a heart rate monitor, a steel tray table, and a bay window that looked out into the city. In front of you on the far side of the room was a wall which was half white board, a simple door, and in the upper right corner there was a TV. Turning your head to the right, you nearly jumped, except you were in too much pain. A rather handsome man was seated in one of the uncomfortable plastic chairs beside your bed. He had scooted the chair close to you so that he could gaze at your peaceful face, which had now contorted into confusion and concern.  
“Who are you?” you asked softly, your voice scratchy from lack of use and who-knows-how much sleep.  
He took in a breath and looked down at his lap. His fingers twitched with the urge to reach out and hold your hand, but he hesitated with uncharacteristic anxiety. He looked back up at you with soft eyes and an unreadable expression.  
“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” he replied gently.  
“Try me,” you countered, glancing down at his hand and feeling a sudden urge to grab ahold of it. You didn’t know what he was going to say, but you’d seen a lot in your years as a hunter. You hadn’t believed in fairy tales or vampires or genies, but you’d faced all of them so far.  
He nodded curtly and gave in, placing his hand over yours. A wave of relief washed through him when you didn’t pull away. “My name is Lucifer. I’m your guardian angel.”  
Your jaw fell open as you stared at him. You knew angels existed. You’d met a couple of them during your travels. You’d heard nothing but bad things about Lucifer, but something inside you told you that he was just painted in a bad light. You felt in your heart that he wasn’t one of the bad guys. Perhaps this was why. Perhaps you were meant to be the one person on his side.  
“The Lucifer?” you clarified.  
He nodded, his anxiety rising with your delayed response. “I would never hurt you. I promise you that. I… We’re…” He let out a sigh and shook his head. “When God created humans, he decided to make one human mate for each of his angels. It became our destiny to find our human mates and bond with them. We are meant to watch over all of mankind, but we are only Guardian Angel to our one human. You are my human.”  
You hung on his every word, feeling drawn to him. To any other person, he would sound like a desperate madman, but you had a very open mind and you liked the words tumbling out of his mouth.  
You squeezed his hand and laced your fingers. “Then I guess I’m your human.”  
His eyes widened at your acceptance. He was always so confident, but trying to convince his soul mate that she was in fact his soul mate was nerve wracking, even for an angel. A smile formed on his lips and he rose to sit on the bed beside you. You scooted over to give him room and he lied down beside you, sliding an arm beneath your head so you could snuggle into his side.  
He leaned in close and brushed his lips against yours. He pressed a chaste kiss to your lips and squeezed your hand. “What do you think of the stories about me? About me being cast out and creating Hell and demons?”  
You gazed into his bright blue eyes and smiled softly. “I think it was a different time. You’re a different person. I know we just met but I feel drawn to you. I feel like you’re meant to protect me. I trust you.”  
His smile widened and he kissed you again with more passion. You responded in kind before letting out a groan. Your body was still weak from blood loss, so you were tired. He understood immediately and settled down beside you, holding you to his chest and humming softly until you fell asleep.


	27. Sam - Cheater Cheater

**Cheater Cheater**  
Request for ReaderChan  
A/N: I summarized the request so it didn’t spoil anything.  
“Sam x fem!reader. Dean is unfaithful. Sam is jealous. Reader is confused.”

You snuggled against Dean’s side on the couch in the small hotel room you’d gotten for the night. Some old movie was on TV and Sam was in the kitchen doing research. You’d tried to get him to join you in relaxing, but he only grunted in response and went back to his books and his laptop.  
For the last couple of weeks, the younger Winchester seemed rather grumpy. Every time you asked about it, he would either sulk away or snap at you and tell you to “go back to snuggling your boyfriend.” You could hear the venom in his voice but you didn’t understand where it was coming from. You repeatedly asked Dean to check into it, but the older Winchester didn’t seem very interested. In fact, he was almost as touchy about the subject as Sam.  
You heard the sound of Sam’s laptop shutting, the lock clicking into place. He had slammed the lid, which was unusual for the ever-so-cautious moose. You turned to look at him with worried eyes, finding him with his eyes closed and his head tilted downwards.  
“Sam?” you called gently. “Are you alright? I could make you some-“  
“I don’t need anything!” Sam yelled, standing up and glaring at you. You jumped in surprise before shrinking against Dean’s side. You hadn’t seen the younger brother yell at anyone except Dean and the monsters they hunted. Neither of them ever yelled at you.  
“Just leave me alone, (y/n)!” With that, the brunette turned and threw open the motel door, slamming it loudly behind him. You didn’t hear the rumble of the Impala, and you hadn’t seen Dean give Sam the keys, which meant the younger brother was walking wherever he was heading.  
You looked at Dean with tears in your eyes. Getting yelled at frightened you, especially coming from a close friend. He rolled his eyes at his brother’s behavior and pulled you close against his chest, kissing your head and whispering sweet nothings into your hair. He promised you that Sam was just stressed and that he’d calm down after a while.

You slammed the door behind you and stormed out of Ellen’s house. You and the boys had gone to visit Ellen and Jo after a successful hunt nearby. You were good friends with the both of them, so you thought it would be fun. After dinner, you and Sam helped Ellen with the dishes while Dean sauntered away to check out the house. You hadn’t noticed that Jo had disappeared as well.  
When the kitchen was clean, you began wandering through the house, looking for Dean. You didn’t know what had happened, but Sam was in a better mood today. You headed down the hall that led to Jo’s room and the bathroom, and you stopped when you heard a low, feminine moan. You stopped outside of Jo’s room and listened quietly, your heart breaking when you heard Dean’s voice. You couldn’t hear what Dean was saying, but you heard Jo’s concern of “I thought you had a girlfriend.” Dean seemed to deny her accusations, because the next sound was another moan.  
With tears in your eyes, you turned on your heel and ran to the door. You slammed it behind you and ran through the front yard, heading for the sidewalk. You didn’t have a destination; you just had to get away.  
Ellen heard the slam and padded into the living room where Sam had been sitting. He had seen you run out and relayed the event to Ellen. Dean and Jo came out of Jo’s room. Jo’s hair was mussed and Dean’s button-up over shirt had been discarded. Sam stared at the two of them and shook his head, while Ellen began yelling.  
Sam slipped out of the house and headed down the road, looking for you. Perhaps it was time for him to make a move. He didn’t want to take advantage of your vulnerability, but maybe while you were mad at Dean, you would hear him out.

He found you at the park a couple of blocks down. You were seated on a bench, leaned over your lap with your elbows on your knees and your head in your hands. Your body shook with sobs and tears stained your cheeks. Sam’s heart broke as he approached, slowly sitting beside you to let you know he was there. You leaned against his side, welcoming the warm arm that wrapped around your waist.  
“Are you okay?” he asked gently.  
“I’m so stupid,” you sniffled, turning to bury your head in his chest. “I can’t believe I thought he had changed. I can’t believe I thought he loved me.”  
“What are you talking about?” Sam inquired. “Of course he loves you.”  
You shook your head. “No, he doesn’t. This isn’t the first time, Sam. He’s cheated on me before. He just knows I caught him this time.”  
Sam seemed surprised. “He has?”  
You nodded and let out a strangled sob. “Whenever he goes to a bar, he gets drunk and kisses another girl. I always wanted to leave him there, but that would be obvious. So I waited until the girl left and took him back to the motel, pretending like nothing happened.”  
Anger swelled in Sam’s chest. He hadn’t known about Dean’s unfaithfulness. “I’m sorry, (y/n).”  
You let out a sigh. “Maybe he was right.”  
“Right about what?”  
You inhaled deeply. “A couple of weeks ago, we got into a fight. I was mad at him for getting wasted in a bar, and he was mad at me for getting mad at him. I didn’t mention the cheating, but I told him that he didn’t treat me like a good boyfriend should. He said… He said, ‘maybe you should date Sam instead.’”  
At Sam’s silence, you looked up at him. His expression was unreadable. You looked back down at your lap with rejection stabbing your chest.  
“I guess he was wrong, then. Maybe I’m just stupid. Maybe… I should leave. Leave the two of you alone.”  
You stood, turning to leave. Sam wrapped his fingers around your wrist, pulling you back towards him. He draped an arm around your waist and pulled you to his lap. You looked at him in surprise. He closed his eyes and leaned in before he could stop himself. Resting a hand on your cheek, he pressed his lips to yours. You responded hesitantly, resting your hands on his shoulders.  
“I’m in love with you,” he whispered against your mouth. “I backed off… because of Dean… But knowing how he treated you… I don’t want to back off anymore.”  
“Well… There isn’t anything between me and Dean anymore…” you whispered. A small smile formed on his lips before he pressed them to yours again.


	28. Castiel - Angel beats

**Angel Beats**  
For Slytherinshadowhunter67  
“Could I have a fem!reader one where the reader and Cas get into a fight and basically say really insulting things they don't mean, but then it's all fluff in the end?”

“I’m a hunter, Cas! I know what I’m doing!”  
Sam and Dean quickly shuffled out of the room, not wanting to sit in on yet another fight. That seemed to be all you and Cas did lately. The boys knew of your crush on the angel, but he didn’t, which upset you more because he didn’t understand how you felt and therefore didn’t understand why you were so bad.  
You didn’t know he was in the same position.  
“You could have died out there, (y/n)!” Cas yelled back.  
“That’s part of being a hunter!” you countered. “Hunts are always dangerous!”  
“You made a mistake,” he pointed out. “You made a mistake that could have gotten you killed. It’s more than just a dangerous job, (y/n).”  
“What are you saying?” you asked, slightly taken back. “Are you saying I’m not a good hunter because I made one damn mistake in the last three years?”  
“A mistake that could have gotten you killed!” he emphasized. He then let out a sigh. “I try to protect you-“  
“Then why are you never around when I need you?” You ignored the mix of shock and hurt on his face. “The second Sam or Dean call, you come running. But when I need your help and I call out to you, I get silence. You can’t claim to protect me when you’re never there for me!”  
Before he could respond, you let out a distressed sound and walked around him, heading for the door. You slipped through it and slammed it shut before Cas could protest. You didn’t care where you were going; you just needed to walk off all of your anger and hurt and stress. You passed Sam and Dean talking beside the Impala on your way through the parking lot. They stared at you as you walked towards the diner down the street, knowing better than to follow you right after a fight. You needed time to cool off, and they wanted to keep their heads attached to their bodies, so they kept their distance.

Sam headed back into the motel first. Expecting the angel to have flown away, he was surprised to see Cas seated at the edge of one of the beds, leaning forward with his head in his hands. He had never seen the angel so upset. Sam hesitantly sat beside him, unsure of how to proceed.  
“I’m messing it all up, Sam,” Cas said sadly. “I am chasing her away. I do not know how to protect her without upsetting her.”  
“Well, you could start with not telling her she’s a bad hunter,” Sam offered. “She tries. You know she does. And she’s really good. This was her first mistake in a long time. It’s not like she’s constantly getting hurt.”  
Cas nodded. “I know, I know. I see that. I just… I can’t bear the thought of her getting hurt. I get so mad…”  
“What are you mad at, Cas?” Sam asked gently. “Why does her getting hurt make you mad?”  
He sighed again. “I’m mad at myself, Sam. I hate myself for not being there for her, like she said. I should always be there when she needs me, but I’m not.”  
“And why aren’t you? Why don’t you answer her calls?”  
“I worry that she’ll be alone, and that if she’s alone I won’t be able to stop myself. Every time I see her, I want to take her in my arms and kiss her… But those are unnatural feelings for an angel. It’s forbidden.”  
“Forget about it being unnatural or forbidden,” Sam said, looking his friend in the eye. “If you want to be with her, then be with her. Be there to protect her when she needs you. Don’t let your feelings drive her away.”  
“What if she does not return my affections?” Cas asked, looking at the young Winchester with worried eyes. “What if my being there for her pushes her away?”  
Sam smiled gently. “I have a hunch that it’ll pull her closer.”  
Cas furrowed his brows and thought about Sam’s words. He nodded, mostly to himself. “Where is she?”  
“The diner down the road,” Sam replied. Before another word could be said, Cas was gone.

You sucked down the last of your (f/flavor) milkshake when you heard the flutter of wings behind you. You rolled your eyes and bit back a groan. “Good thing the diner’s empty. Someone could have seen that.”  
“I was not worried about getting caught,” Cas said, sitting across from you. “I was worried about you.”  
You glared up at him. “What about me, Cas? Are you worried about me being a bad hunter? Are you worried that I’m actually going to need your help one day?”  
He reached across the table and took your hand in his, causing you to look at him in shock.  
“I am worried that one day, I won’t be there to protect you, and you’ll be killed. I’m worried that you’ll die, and I won’t be able to do anything, and I haven’t even told you how I feel.”  
“And how do you feel?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.  
He fluttered again, appearing beside you in the booth, his hands still holding yours. He brought one of your hands to his chest, pressing your palm flat against the left side. You could feel a steady thumping beneath your hand. “Do you feel that?”  
You nodded.  
“My vessel’s heart beats much faster when you’re near. I recently understood what that means. (y/n)… I am in love with you. I know it is wrong for an angel to love a human so much, but I can’t help it. I want to love you and protect you, and I’m scared that when you get hurt on a hunt, it will be the last time I see you.”  
You stared up at him in awe. “Cas… You love me?”  
He nodded, his icy blue eyes gazing into yours. You stretched up and pressed your lips to his. It seemed to catch him off guard at first, but he quickly understood his role and responded in kind. His other hand came up to rest on your cheek.  
“I love you too, Cas.”  
He smiled against your lips. “I’m so glad to hear that.”  
You looked up at him. “No more fighting?”  
He nodded. “No more fighting.”  
He kissed you again and flew you back to the motel. You only realized the change of location when you heard Dean groan in disgust and Sam chuckle in amusement. You blushed upon realizing that you’d landed in the middle of the motel room, still kissing your angel. Cas didn’t seem fazed, though, as he led you to the couch and lied down, pulling you to lie against his chest. You curled into his warmth and fell asleep, listening to the thudding of his heartbeat.


	29. Platonic - Fly Away

**Fly Away**  
Request for Jordynn  
A/N: Because you’re a ghost, I decided not to have you end up with anyone.  
“Supernatural!reader- the reader is a ghost that Sam and Dean are supposed to kill because she's been murdering people that go to the house she died in. Upon arrival the ghost acts harmless and answers questions Sam and Dean ask. They eventually ask why she kills people and she tells them that she's cursed. You can choose who falls for her and how they get rid of the curse.”

“You’re (y/n)!” the young man said, staring in awe at the apparition before him.  
You cringed and looked down at your transparent feet. “You shouldn’t have come. You shouldn’t have sought me out.”  
“I’ve always wanted to meet a ghost,” he continued, stepping forward and ignoring your warnings.  
“I’m so sorry,” you whispered. He tilted his head in confusion, letting out a frightened shriek when you flew forward. You floated straight through his body, severing his heartstrings and killing him instantly. He managed a strangled scream before he fell forward, his eyes frozen wide in terror. You sniffled and flew upstairs through the floor, not wanting to be around when his body was discovered.

“There’s been a disappearance every couple of weeks,” Dean explained, reading from several different newspaper clippings.  
“Is there a pattern?” Sam inquired, sipping his coffee.  
“Just that every person went missing after visiting an allegedly haunted house,” the older brother replied.  
“Vengeful spirit?” the younger guessed.  
Dean nodded. “Sounds like it. No bodies have been reported, though. Just missing persons.”  
“Let’s check it out.”

They approached the abandoned house where several townspeople had gone missing. It was old and wooden, with cracked paint and chipped boards, broken windows and a rotten smell. They braced themselves with flashlights and rock salt guns before heading inside, looking around cautiously.  
Sam nearly tripped in the darkness. He shined his flashlight down at the floor and groaned – the dead body of one of the missing persons was lying at his feet. Dean heard the commotion and looked over his shoulder.  
“Guess that settles it,” he stated. “Vengeful spirit.”  
Sam nodded and continued on until he heard soft whispers in the distance. He turned to see your transparent form floating before him, looking surprisingly innocent and remorseful.  
“Who are you?” he asked.  
“I can’t say,” you replied.  
“What are you doing here?” he tried.  
“I died here,” you answered. “I can’t leave.”  
Dean padded over, aiming his salt gun. Sam shook his head, raising a hand for Dean to lower it.  
“What happened to you?” Dean asked cautiously.  
“I was strangled,” you replied.  
“Why are you killing people?” Sam inquired.  
“I don’t have a choice,” you explained. “I was cursed by a witch when I died. I don’t kill all of them…”  
“What was the curse?” the older Winchester wondered.  
“I must kill anyone who calls me by my real name.”  
The boys shared a look.  
“What kind of curse is that?” Sam asked.  
You looked down at your feet. You hated the story. “When I was alive… I was poor. I was homeless and starving. So… I became a prostitute. I was thin and kind of pretty… It was just to make some extra cash.” You took in a breath, closing your eyes so you wouldn’t have to see their judgment. “I was so ashamed… I didn’t want to use my real name. I also didn’t want to have a reputation, so I used a different name with every client. One of them was a witch. I didn’t want anyone to know who I really was, and he didn’t like that I lied about my entire life. He had a horrible temper… He choked me until I lost consciousness, and as I died he put a curse on me that I could never again use my real name, and neither could anybody else.”  
“That’s awful,” Sam murmured, looking at Dean. “We have to figure out how to break the curse.”  
The older Winchester nodded in agreement, looking at you. “Do you know what happened to the man that killed you?”  
“As far as I know, he lives,” you replied. “I haven’t seen him. I can’t leave this house, and he’s never come back.”  
“Why this house?” Sam inquired. “Did you live here?”  
You shook your head. “It’s been abandoned for decades. I used it for my… business meetings… It was a neutral location. I didn’t feel safe going back to their place, and I certainly didn’t want to invite them home.”  
“What was his name?” Dean asked.  
“Bryan Long,” you replied with a shudder. (1)  
“We’ll find him,” Sam promised.

They went around asking the townsfolk about the disappearances like they always did when they were on a case. Many attitudes turned sour at the mention of Bryan Long. It turned out he was a rather hated character in this small town, and no one liked talking about him. The local cops were able to help the boys a little, giving them the man’s address. When they asked why Bryan Long was important, Dean replied that he and his partner had learned of your death and had reason to believe it had been Mr. Long’s fault. The cops were surprised by that answer; they had no proof, but they all suspected that it had been Mr. Long as well. They were happy to help if it meant they would get enough evidence to lock Mr. Long away.  
They tracked Bryan Long down, and he was very unhappy to see authorities at his house. “House” was an exaggeration. His address was a shabby trailer at the end of a back road, the steel exterior dented and rusting with weeds growing from the ground around the base and winding up to encase the trailer. The inside smelled how the outside looked; rotten and revolting. When Sam and Dean explained that they were looking into your death and the recent disappearances, Mr. Long tried to bolt.  
“Why did you kill that girl?” Dean asked aggressively.  
“How do you know about that?” Bryan asked defensively.  
“We have a reliable source,” Sam replied. “Her ghost.”  
Bryan’s face paled. He clearly believed in ghosts. Dean pushed past him and looked around the inside of the trailer, spotting a table full of hex bags and their ingredients. He turned to look at Bryan. “So she was right. You’re a witch.”  
Bryan remained silent.  
“Tell us how to break the curse you put on her,” Sam ordered.  
Bryan’s eyes widened. “The curse worked?”  
“Why do you think her ghost is here?” Dean countered. “She’s stuck here because you cursed her to kill anyone who calls her by her real name.”  
Bryan’s face contorted unpleasantly, like recalling a bad memory. “That lying little-“  
“Tell us how to break it!” Sam repeated, holding the front of Bryan’s shirt.  
Bryan glared at him. “The only way to break the curse is to kill the witch that placed it.”  
Dean’s eyes lit up. “And how poetic would it be if her ghost killed you and got justice for her own murder?”  
Bryan’s eyes widened in fear. “You wouldn’t.”  
“You underestimate me,” Dean replied, “because I would.”

They dragged him back to the house you were roaming, surprising you. Half of you wanted to scream at him for hurting you, and half wanted to turn and run in fear.  
“Hey,” Sam called out to you. “It’s okay. He’s here so you can break the curse.”  
“We normally don’t condone revenge,” Dean explained, “but this is a special case.”  
“What are you talking about?” you asked, slowly floating near.  
“The only way to break the curse is for him to die,” Dean replied.  
“We thought it would be fair if you were the one to break the curse,” Sam added.  
You stared at the man who ended your life. He looked so frightened and helpless now. Perhaps death had made you morbid, but you felt high and powerful looking at the fear in his eyes. After all the fear he had instilled in you…  
“Say my name,” you said with a growl.  
Bryan remained silent.  
“Say my name!” you yelled. “Give me reason to kill you, Bryan. You put this curse on me. You deserve to suffer like I have. Say my name!”  
“(y/n)!” he yelled back. “Not that you ever used it, you little fake.”  
You grinned and floated closer. You looked at Sam and Dean. “Please stand back. I don’t want to hurt either of you.”  
They complied and stepped away, looking between you and Bryan. With a battle cry on your lips, you flew forward, rushing straight through Bryan’s chest. He let out a scream and closed his eyes, falling to his knees and then on his face. You turned in the air and looked at his lifeless body, suddenly feeling open and free. You smiled genuinely as you looked at Sam and Dean.  
“Thank you,” you whispered. “Thank you so much. I’m free now.”  
They watched in awe as a light enveloped you. Your apparition began to fade, beginning with your hands and feet, fluttering away as tiny transparent butterflies. They consumed your entire being, flying up into the sky and disappearing into the stars.

 

(1) I actually named him after two of my least favorite people.


	30. Sam - She Has Your Eyes

**She Has Your Eyes**  
Request for Zara  
“Sam x vampire!reader Reader is daughter of the vamp the boys are hunting . They kill the nest .Sam wants to kill reader but Dean saves her . Sam and reader hate each other but Sam gets drunk on night and they have a one nightstand .”

“Please,” you begged, raising your hands in surrender. “Don’t kill me. I never fed on people, I swear. I refused. I only feed from animals and only when I’m starving.”  
“Kill her,” Sam instructed, raising his machete.  
“Woah,” Dean replied in surprise. “I thought I was Mr. Hit-First-Ask-Questions-Never. What happened?”  
“She’s a monster,” Sam shrugged, stepping towards you. “We kill monsters.”  
“We’ve befriended them before,” Dean reminded. “We’ve rescued them before.”  
Sam sighed and lowered the blade. “Fine. Save her. I don’t care.”

The boys had been tracking a vamp nest when they found you. You were the daughter of the vamp in charge. Sam was adamant about killing you, but Dean didn’t think you deserved it. You repeatedly thanked the older Winchester- of course you knew who they were- but the younger didn’t want anything to do with you.  
You had nowhere else to go. Your entire family had been the vampire nest that Sam and Dean annihilated. Dean told you that you were welcome to stay in the bunker until you got a job and your own place. Sam was hesitant to agree. So far, Castiel was the nicest. He didn’t care that you were a vamp. He was surprised by Sam and Dean’s reactions but he liked you well enough.  
Every supernatural monster knew about the Winchesters, from demons and Djinn to witches and fairies. Female demons were flirty, always talking about how attractive the Winchesters were and what a shame it was that they were the good guys. You hadn’t met them until now, so you weren’t able to form an opinion other than concern for the fact that they knew how to kill you.  
You had to agree that they were easy on the eyes. You had a particular liking to Sam, but you could see in his hazel eyes that the only interest he had in you was your death. Every day you were at the bunker, you felt less and less welcome. Dean and Cas were nice and didn’t threaten to kill you, but you weren’t entirely sure that Sam wouldn’t sneak into your room while you were napping and just slice your head off on his own.

One night, you were partying with the boys. They had just taken out a family of werewolves and wanted to drink in celebration. Dean had wanted to go to a bar, but Sam refused to be his designated driver and keep him from making stupid decisions, so they bought half a liquor store and threw a party in the bunker. Cas couldn’t get drunk as easily as the boys could, but he was there nonetheless. You didn’t care much for the taste of alcohol, but with the way Sam had been treating you, you needed the boost.  
It wasn’t long before Dean attempted to stumble to his room and tripped over his own feet, collapsing on the hardwood floor. Sam barked out a drunken laugh and left him there before trying to stand himself. Without thinking, you reached out to help steady him, and he didn’t pull away. Instead, he grabbed the hand that you had placed on his chest and held it gently. He looked down at you with half-lidded eyes, and you were overwhelmed by the urge to kiss him.  
You stood on your tip-toes and tangled your free hand in his hair, bringing his lips down to yours. You panicked in the back of your mind until his other hand settled on the small of your back, pulling you against him. You gasped in surprise and he slid his tongue into your mouth, effectively killing whatever functioning mentality you had for the night.  
He began backing out of the living room, heading down the hall to his bedroom. You followed eagerly, never breaking the kiss or removing your hands from his hair. He backed into his bedroom door, frantically searching for the handle. He nearly fell on his back when he turned the knob and the door swung open behind him. He led you in, with you kicking the door closed behind you, and laid you on the bed, hovering above you. You finally pulled back for air, but he only gave you a second before kissing you again.

For three weeks after that night, you were paranoid. You became nauseous and unnaturally tired. You tried to hide your concern from the boys, instantly set on moving out. Sam was delighted; Dean was concerned. Sam was too drunk to remember the details, but he vividly recalled waking up naked beside an equally naked you.  
They gave you some money to get yourself started while you got a job. You found a cheap studio apartment a few towns over and they gave you a ride. You didn’t have a car, but the town had a decent bus system.  
Around the time you moved into your shabby apartment, your fears were confirmed. You were pregnant.

You saw them again about a year after you left. There were a string of murders in your town of people you knew. You had changed your name, so they didn’t know it was you until you opened the door with your hair in a bun and a bundle in your arms.  
“(y/n)?” Dean greeted in surprise.  
“Dean,” you replied, eyes wide in shock. You noticed the tall brunette beside him. “Sam. What are you doing here?”  
“Investigating the recent murders,” Dean replied. “Can we come in?”  
You stepped aside and let them in. Sam couldn’t stop eying the baby in your arms. You let out a sigh. You knew you’d have to tell him some time.  
“I’m not a suspect, am I?” you asked. “I never went back on my word. I only feed on animals and only when I absolutely need it.”  
“What about that?” Sam asked, nodding at your baby.  
“She can eat blood or baby food. I usually mix them together,” you explained.  
They explained the recent murders and were confident that you had nothing to do with them; you were just a bystander.  
“How old is she?” Dean asked.  
“Three months,” you replied quietly, looking down at her.  
“What’s her name?” Sam inquired.  
You hesitated before answering, “Samantha.”  
They shared a look before Dean stepped closer to look at her. He looked at you with inquisitive eyes and you nodded. He scooped her into his arms and cradled her against his chest. She looked so small in his big arms. She opened her eyes and looked up at the strange man, showing no sign of fear or dislike.  
Dean looked between you, Sam, and the baby. He leaned in and whispered, “She has his eyes.”  
You stared at him in shock and he smiled before passing her back to you. Of course he knew. He was Dean. He stepped outside to give you and Sam some privacy, where you stared awkwardly at the floor.  
“Three months, huh?” Sam said, walking closer. “It’s been about a year since you left… Nine months of pregnancy and a three month old baby… You must have gotten pregnant around the time you went out on your own.”  
“Quite a math genius, aren’t you,” you replied nervously, looking up at him.  
“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked.  
“Would you have wanted to know?”  
“Of course!”  
“Really?” You stared at him. “You hated me, Sam. I know that. I understood that. We had a drunken one night stand and after that, you couldn’t even look at me. How was I supposed to tell the man who wanted to kill me that I was pregnant with his child?”  
“I only disliked you because I was attracted to you,” he sighed. “I didn’t want to fall in love with a… a non-human… So I distanced myself.”  
He moved to sit on the couch and you sat beside him.  
“What do we do now?” you asked.  
“Can I hold her?” he requested quietly.  
A small smile claimed your lips and you nodded, gently passing her to his arms. He held her close, gently, as though she were fragile porcelain. He looked up at you with a small smile.  
“She’s beautiful.”  
“She has your eyes,” you commented. Sam turned his gaze back to Samantha.  
“We can’t stay,” he said.  
“I know,” you nodded.  
“But we’ll visit,” he promised.  
“You’d better,” you smiled. Dean honked and Sam returned your baby to your arms. He kissed you sweetly and kissed Samantha’s forehead before bidding his goodbye and heading outside. You watched them go with a smile on your lips. You knew they’d come back again.


	31. Sam - The Black Parade

**The Black Parade**  
Request for Tulip  
A/N: I had to modify the canon details on Reapers to fit the story so just go with it.  
“Child!cancer reader x child Sam. Boys are on their first hunt with John. A Reaper is killing people in a hospital. Dean befriends reader who is dying from cancer.”

Sam and Dean followed their father through the sterile hospital. Dean’s head was held high and a dutiful expression formed on his face, while Sam was nervous about hunting inside the large, haunting infirmary. He clutched his older brother’s sleeve, and Dean’s noble side told him to hold his brother’s hand and keep him safe. John wouldn’t have approved of Sam being so cowardly, hiding behind Dean like he was a human shield, but he had taught the older boy to take care of his brother, and that was what Dean was going to do.  
Their father had been keeping track of a string of deaths inside this hospital. Sure, most of them could have been chalked up to, you know, being patients in a hospital, but John was sure that something unnatural was going on inside these pale white walls.  
Dean didn’t have an opinion on the situation one way or the other. He’d been taught to follow his father’s instructions without question, so when John said there was a hunt, then there was a hunt. That meant figuring out what they were dealing with and figuring out how to kill it.  
Sam was brand new to hunting. Because he was young, John had hidden it from him until recently. Actually, if he’d had his way, Sam would still be in the dark. But the youngest Winchester had found his father’s journal, describing various encounters that John had had with monsters and creatures of the night, and he had apprehensively asked Dean what all of the scribbles meant and if the monsters under his bed were real. Dean had begrudgingly affirmed Sam’s concerns and proceeded to explain what their father really did for a living, which was nowhere near the door-to-door sales job they had been telling Sam he had.  
So, understandably, the youngest was cautious about roaming a wide, open hospital that smelled of bleach and death.

The boys were sent into each and every room, trying to befriend every patient they could. They weren’t supposed to get attached, of course, but their jobs were easier to do if the people they were trying to help trusted them.  
You were lying in bed, hooked up to a heart monitor upon other taxing devices. You were frightened of having so many wires sticking out of your arms, but your parents assured you that it was fine. Your doctor had tried to comfort you as well, but you didn’t trust him. You were nine years old; of course you didn’t like doctors.  
You were surprised when your mother announced that you had visitors. Your family had been in and out for the last few months, but you hadn’t expected anyone today. You were excited to learn that it was someone new, and your heart sped up when you saw two young boys enter the room.  
You may have only been nine years old, but that was old enough for an innocent crush. The taller boy with short hair looked like he was going for an early bad boy rep, but the slightly shorter one with the shaggy brown locks looked adorably confused, and just the slightest bit embarrassed at having barged into your hospital room.  
You greeted them politely, making your mother smile. They returned the sentiment, and when your mother asked why they were there, they explained that they were going to each room to befriend the child patients and maybe make them feel better.  
Nothing was going to make you feel better. You were nine years old and had spent the last few months straight in the hospital after being diagnosed with stomach cancer. The only thing that could make you feel better was being told the cancer was cured.  
In addition to being sick, you had a bad feeling about your doctor. You couldn’t explain it, and every version of explanation you tested out in your head sounded completely insane, so you didn’t bother trying to tell your mom.  
The doctor sauntered into the room, walking around your new visitors like they weren’t even there, and you let out a scream before you could stop it. There was something wrong with his face. It was dark and brooding, like a monster that belonged in a scared child’s closet. Sam and Dean, as they’d introduced themselves, quickly became defensive, rushing to your side and checking to make sure you weren’t hurt. The doctor had been more alarmed by their reaction than your initial scream, and he quickly fled from the room before their father came running in.

Over the next few days, you saw a lot of Sam and Dean. Dean was friendlier, sitting on your bed and telling you stories to cheer you up. Sam would linger awkwardly in the background, leaning against the wall, his gaze flickering from your pretty face to the laces in his shoes (the latter when you caught him staring).  
You took a liking to Sam and wished he was more outgoing. You wanted to get to know the both of them, especially since the younger brother was your age. They were both very good listeners. You told them the story of being diagnosed with cancer and how you’d been in the hospital since, and you felt the sympathy emanating from them. Sam had then tugged on Dean’s sleeve, silently gesturing that he needed to speak with his brother alone, and they left the room.  
“I like her,” Sam admitted when they were in the empty hall.  
“Then talk to her,” Dean replied as though it was the obvious answer.  
“I can’t!” the younger protested. “She likes you more.”  
“She’d like you if you talked to her,” the older insisted.  
“I want to get her a present,” Sam said. “Where’s the gift shop?”  
Dean turned to lead his brother to said shop, and they passed by a couple of doctors on their way down the hall.  
“(l/n)?” one of them said. “The cancer patient?”  
The other nodded. “Her cancer is growing rapidly. None of the treatments are working. I’m afraid she won’t last long. A few months, tops.”  
Sam’s heart broke at their words, and Dean’s heart broke empathetically. He wrapped an arm around his brother’s shoulders, leading the saddened boy to the gift shop. He told Sam to pick out anything he wanted to give you, and Sam browsed every single aisle before ending up in front of the flowers. He found a small bouquet of (f/flower) and picked them up, smiling softly at Dean who returned the gesture. They paid for the flowers before returning to your room.  
Your heart warmed when you saw a bouquet with legs enter the room. Sam handed you the flowers before sitting on the edge of your bed. You thanked him with a peck on the cheek and set the bouquet on your bedside table. You hadn’t noticed that Dean was lingering outside the room to give you privacy.  
As you were finally getting to know the adorable brunette, you doctor padded into the room to check on you. You let out a blood-curdling scream before you could stop yourself. Sam looked at the doctor in alarm, as though he could see the darkness inside of him that you saw. Again, Sam and Dean’s dad came rushing in, and he watched the doctor carefully as he left the room.  
“He’s a bad man,” you told Sam worriedly. “No, not a man… I don’t know what he is, but he’s hurting people. Someone has to stop him!”  
“My dad will,” Sam promised. “He’s good at this kind of stuff. He’ll fix it, I promise.”  
Dean had heard his brother’s vow and let out a sigh. Sam would never speak to him again if anything happened to you, and he knew they had to kill this monster.

Later that night, the boys and their dad were still around, roaming the hospital like lost guests. They checked on you repeatedly, making sure you were okay and far away from the “doctor.”  
Once again, they heard your scream. Dean, Sam, and John came running down the hall, and Sam reached you first out of sheer willpower. He was frightened by the ghostly figure that was looming over your unconscious body, but his chest puffed out defensively and he approached the creature.  
Until John grabbed his arm and pulled him back, shaking his head in a “don’t go near that thing” kind of way.  
The monster, which John had identified as a Reaper, ceased its attack on you and turned its attention to the boys. John withdrew a vintage looking handgun from his pocket and aimed it at the Reaper, firing when it was floating high enough that he wouldn’t accidentally shoot you. The ghostly figure flitted about the room before it exploded into nothing, presumably dead for good.  
Sam rushed over to you now that he was allowed, and was relieved to see that you were breathing. You opened your eyes and smiled softly when his face was the first thing you saw.  
“Are you okay?” he asked gently.  
You nodded.  
John and Dean left to tell the doctors you had woken up.  
You sat up in your bed, feeling stronger and more well-rested than you had in months. You leaned forward and engulfed him in a hug, which he immediately returned. When you pulled away, you quickly pecked his lips with yours, causing matching blushes to rise to both of your faces.  
John and Dean returned with the doctors who checked your vitals. They shared looks of complete astonishment before looking at you. You looked between them with worry in your brow.  
“What?” you asked.  
“It’s a miracle,” one breathed.  
“I don’t know how,” the other said, “but your cancer is gone. It’s completely cured. You’re totally healthy.”  
Your gaze wandered back to Sam who shrugged unknowingly, seemingly as confused as you were. You shared a smile as the doctors left, and you threw your arms around him again. Dean smiled at the embrace before turning to leave, dragging John out with them.  
“Promise you’ll visit?” you asked.  
Sam smiled with a nod. “Promise.”  
You pecked his cheek before bidding him goodbye, waving cheerfully at him as he slipped out into the hall to catch up with his family.


	32. Balthazar - Mates For Life

**Mates For Life**  
A/N: A plot I just made up because it sounded good, and I wanted to write a character that I hadn’t already written. I tried not to spoil anything.  
“You were the love of Balthazar’s life, and he was devastated to lose you. A year later you came back… but at what cost?”

For an angel to be in love with a human was forbidden. You knew it, Balthazar knew it; everyone knew it. However, every angel had a human mate, and angels were allowed to love their mates to their hearts’ content. When Balthazar discovered that you were his mate, both of you were ecstatic. Now you could be truly happy together, not having to worry about who might find out or what might happen to you (the penalty for these things was typically death, and Balthazar couldn’t bear the thought of you dying over your love for him. It had led to many an argument followed by a crying session).  
Your happiness was short lived.  
Just a year after learning of your profound bond with the alcoholic angel, things took a turn for the worst. The apocalypse had begun, thanks to big bad Lucifer, and being a hunter, you felt it was your duty to join the fight. Balthazar had begged you not to go, worrying for your safety, but you’d assured him, or tried to, that you’d be fine, and that the Winchesters would keep an eye on you. Bal had then gone to said brothers and made them swear to protect you at all costs. They had agreed, but they knew that if things got ugly, they may not be able to find you amidst all the chaos.  
Their worries had proved true.  
You got caught up in a fight between a hunter and a demon. You were on the hunter’s side, of course, but the demon’s power, improved by Lucifer’s power now that he was topside, was too much for the both of you. Your demon blade might have killed it, but you couldn’t get close enough to try without being flung backwards. The first couple of times, it barely fazed you. Being mated to an angel gave you extra physical strength, which came in handy when it came to fighting monsters. But the demon shot you backwards and you landed at an awkward angle, slammed against the edge of a dumpster. The harsh corner jammed into your spine, severing the arteries that pumped blood from your heart to your brain. (1) You struggled for a few minutes, choking on your own saliva, before you slumped to the ground, unconscious.

Balthazar was a wreck. Every angel in creation knew about the apocalypse, but none of them were allowed to do anything about it. Bal had nearly broken that rule several times, just so he could make sure you were okay.  
He visited the Winchesters in their motel room when the battle was done. He began to panic when he noticed you weren’t with them. They explained how bravely you’d fought to protect everyone against the demons, before reluctantly adding that one demon wasn’t too happy about your fighting spirit and had taken you out.  
Bal spent several months destroying whatever he could get away with. He alternated between furious and depressed, drinking his tears away in the form of whine. It was a good thing angels couldn’t get drunk. He would have been much more destructive distraught and wasted than he was just distraught.

You awoke with a strong sense of confusion and disconnection. You had no idea what time it was – day, month, or year. You sat up too quickly, giving yourself vertigo. Shaking it off, you looked around the dark room you’d been brought to. But weren’t you dead? Was this your Heaven, all black satin and grey cobblestones? Or did you not make it to Heaven? You hadn’t sold your soul, so why wouldn’t you get into Heaven?  
Footsteps sounded to your right so you turned your head, coming face-to-face with the King of Hell himself. Crowley.  
“Ah,” he said softly. “Our guest is awake.”  
“Where am I?” you asked defensively. You knew better than to play nice with the British bastard. “Why am I here?”  
“Well, sweetheart,” he replied, sitting on the edge of the bed you had woken up on. “You’re dead.”  
“Then how am I still-“ You looked around the room at Crowley and the rest of the demons and realization dawned. “Oh.”  
He smirked. “She figured it out.”  
“I’m… a demon?”  
He nodded.  
You narrowed your eyes. “Why? Why did you make me a demon?”  
“You’re close to the Winchesters,” Crowley replied. “You’ll make a good spy.”  
“Spy?” you repeated. “You brought me back as a demon so I can go undercover for you?”  
He nodded again. “Stupid Moose and Squirrel will never see it coming.”  
“They might. They think I’m dead. They saw my dead body after the fight.”  
Crowley cursed under his breath. “Come up with a story, then. But you will be my key to get under their skin, or I’ll kill you myself.”  
With that, he left, his group of demon minions following.

You made your way topside, knowing exactly who you wanted to see, and it wasn’t the Winchesters. Though you did have to stop and see them first so you knew where to find the man you were looking for.  
“(y/n)?” Sam greeted in shock when he opened the motel door to see you. “I thought you were dead.”  
“I was,” you replied, deciding it would be better to tell them the truth. “Crowley…”  
Dean understood. “You’re a demon.”  
You nodded, keeping your gaze on the ground.  
“Are you looking for Balthazar?” Sam asked.  
You looked up at him with hopeful eyes. “Do you know where he is?”  
Sam nodded. “But he may not want to see you.”  
Worry flooded your brain. “Why not?” Had he moved on already?  
“He knows you died,” Sam explained. “If you suddenly show up, it won’t take him long to figure out what happened.”  
You sighed. “I know. That’s unavoidable. But I need to see him.”  
The brothers shared a look and Sam nodded. He invited you inside, and you were grateful that they weren’t shunning you like they did with other demons.  
“We’ll call him,” Dean offered. “Though he may have already sensed you.”  
You sat on the bed anxiously as Dean called out your angel’s name. Within moments, the flutter of wings could be heard, and your tall, thin lover appeared in the corner of the room.  
“What is it now, boys? I’m a little busy- (y/n)?” His eyebrows rose in surprise when he saw you.  
“Hey, Bal,” you replied nervously. The boys headed outside to give you and the angel privacy.  
Without thinking, Balthazar ran forward and engulfed you in a hug. “I was so worried. I thought you were dead.” He pulled back and looked down at you. “No… I know you were dead. Sam and Dean told me so. How are you…”  
You bit your lip, blinking back tears as realization flashed on his face.  
“You’re a demon.” It wasn’t a question, but you nodded in confirmation.  
“Crowley found me,” you explained, sitting on the bed and looking down in shame. “He brought me back. He wants to use me to get to Sam and Dean.”  
Bal sat beside you and let out a sigh. “You would never do that.”  
You looked at him. “You know I wouldn’t. But he’ll check up on me eventually, and he’ll want to know what I’ve found out. And if I stay topside too long… he’ll find out about you.”  
“(y/n)…” he replied slowly. “Angels and demons… it’s beyond forbidden. An angel and a human is one thing, especially if they’re not mated, but angels and demons…”  
Hurt flashed in your eyes. “Are you saying… we’re done?”  
That couldn’t just be the end. You were the love of his life, and he yours. Plus, you had been mates before you died. Wasn’t there some kind of exception?  
“You said that Crowley would get suspicious and track you down, and eventually find out about me, right?” he clarified.  
You nodded.  
“What do you think will happen to you if God or the other angels find out? They’re just as powerful as Crowley, if not more so. I couldn’t put you in that kind of danger.”  
“But we were mates,” you reminded him. “Isn’t there something we can do?”  
“I don’t know,” he sighed, wrapping an arm around you. “Please don’t think that I don’t want to see you, (y/n). I’m just worried for your safety.”  
You nodded against his shoulder, curling against his side. He brought your legs up to rest on his lap, his other arm securing around your waist. He nudged your face with his nose, causing you to lift your head in response. He tilted his head and leaned in, pressing his lips to yours. You sighed softly against his mouth, relishing the feel of his kiss.  
He pulled away and rested his cheek on top of your head. “We’ll figure this out, darling,” he said softly. “But until we do, we should keep our distance. Crowley and my brothers can’t find out that we’re still together.”  
You looked up at him with a soft smile on your lips. He had confirmed that you were still together. “Agreed,” you said, pecking his cheek. He smiled and held you close until he had to leave. Sam and Dean let you spend the night, not that you needed to sleep. Tomorrow, you would decide what to do about Crowley.

 

(1) I read online about death by severed spinal cord and it said that one of the most common is when the spinal cord gets injured and the arteries between your brain and your heart get damaged. I don’t care if it’s 100%. Fucking go with it.


	33. Sam - Bang Bang

**Bang Bang**  
Request for Roxxi.Ray.Suicide, Too Bad I’m Illegal, Katie, Lydia Rose, Jewel, and Emma.  
A/N: Sequel to "The Black Parade." I’m dedicating this to all of you because damn a lot of you wanted a sequel.  
The title is because it was stuck in my head while I wrote this.  
“Could you make a part 2 of this? When they are older. sometime in the future they see each other good thinking that they both look familiar and then they realize they know each other and their little crush they had when they were children develops into more than a crush.”

You never forgot about Sam and Dean Winchester. If it weren’t for them, you wouldn’t be alive today. The cancer would have consumed you quickly. After your miraculous recovery, the doctors informed you of how little you had left to live before those boys showed up. You owed your life to them, and you wished you could see them one more time to thank them.  
You grew up to lead a normal life. You lived with your parents until you were nineteen. Shortly after turning eighteen, you got a job as a waitress at the local diner. You saved a portion of every paycheck, and after a few months, you had saved enough for an application fee and first month’s rent on an apartment. It was close enough to visit your family when you wanted to, but it gave you a sense of mature independence, and your own space.  
You thought about them often. You didn’t have very vivid or extensive memories, having only spent a few days with them. You remembered white walls and a scary doctor, and the flood of relief when they believed your fears and didn’t think you were crazy. You remembered flowers and a sweet nine-year-old kiss and the boy with shaggy hair. They were happy stories that made you smile and gave your tummy a fuzzy feeling. But at the same time, they made you miss them. Him. Sam. Sam Winchester.

Sam and Dean sighed in unison as they climbed back into their respective seats in the Impala. The ghost they were trying to salt and burn kept changing identities, and they were growing tired of chasing it down. They would find enough clues to narrow the suspect list down to one ex-resident, then find the body and salt and burn the bones. But then the hauntings continued, and they realized they had cremated the wrong remains. They had burned three different graves now, and the townsfolk were beginning to lose faith in the two strange FBI agents that believed in the paranormal.  
Dean grunted his displeasure as he drove through the small town, deciding that he was hungry and pulling into the parking lot of a small diner. Sam breathed a sigh of relief at the thought of taking a break and getting some food. They’d been working practically nonstop for the last two days; they needed a break.  
They left the Impala and headed inside, a small bell above the door jingling sweetly to alert the workers of new customers. A brunette hostess smiled at the boys and asked, “Just two?” as she picked up two menus and led the pair to a booth in the corner. It was seated by a wide window that still had holiday icons painted on the outside, reminders of Valentine’s Day just a few weeks previous. Sam smiled and thanked the hostess as he sat down across from Dean, and she nodded in return before padding back to the front to ring up a customer that was ready to leave.  
You sauntered up to the table that now housed new customers and smiled sweetly. “Can I get you boys started with drinks? Water, tea, soda?”  
The tall one with shaggy hair lifted his head and met your gaze, and his jaw dropped open. You stared into those familiar hazel eyes with the same shock and awe, almost dropping your notepad. Dean looked up to see his brother’s face go blank with surprise, so he turned to look at you and tilted his head as though not sure of what he saw.  
“(y/n)?” Sam greeted softly.  
“Sam,” you replied surely.  
“My God,” Dean added, looking you up and down. “How long’s it been?”  
You were now twenty-three. “Fourteen years,” you answered.  
“Fourteen years,” Sam repeated. He looked at Dean. “What are the chances?”  
Dean shrugged. “We revisit familiar towns all the time. I guess we just forgot the name of this one.”  
“It’s good to see you again,” the younger brother said, looking back at you.  
You nodded. “Yeah… So! Back to those drinks…”

They hung around until you got off work, wanting to catch up with you. Sam wouldn’t admit it, but he couldn’t ignore the butterflies that erupted through his abdomen when he looked at you. After they left town after saving you, he assured himself that what he felt for you was just a childish crush, and that it would be better to forget about it. But now… he wasn’t so sure. He had missed you, and here you were. There had to be some kind of fate for him to see you again. He was more faithful than Dean, so though he wouldn’t say it to the older brother, he believed the universe was giving him a sign.  
You very much believed in fate and the universe. There was a reason you were seeing Sam again, besides them having another case. Maybe the case was a sign, too. The universe was giving you two a reason to be reunited.  
You met them outside and whistled at the car. When you’d first met, you’d spent the whole visit in a hospital bed. You had no idea this was what they rode around in. Dean smiled proudly at your approval of the Impala while Sam opened the backseat door for you. You had walked to work today, so you didn’t have to worry about your own car.  
“Where to?” Dean asked, sliding into the driver’s seat and revving the engine.  
“Anywhere,” you replied.  
“Is there a bar?” he inquired.  
You nodded and pointed at the road. “Just down the street here.”  
He followed your direction and pulled up alongside the curb when he reached the place in question. He got out first, giving you and Sam privacy in case you wanted it. He nodded to his brother and headed inside, leaving you along with the younger Winchester.  
Sam got out and walked around the car, opening the door to the backseat and sliding in beside you. You smiled nervously at him. Your belly tingled with familiar nerves as you looked at him, all grown up. You had missed him.  
“I didn’t think I’d see you again,” he admitted. “I mean, I always hoped… but with what Dean and I do…”  
“I’m glad you’re back,” you replied, shifting in your seat to turn and face him. “I know we were young, and we didn’t have a lot of time… but I’ve missed you.”  
He smiled and reached out to grasp your hand. “I missed you too.”  
You stared up at him and scooted closer. He dipped his head and leaned in, his eyes fluttering closed. You followed suit, resting your free hand on his chest. Your lips met in the middle and sparks exploded inside your mind. This was so much better than the two-second peck you’d shared when you were nine. Your lips melded together perfectly, like matching jigsaw pieces. You adjusted so you were sitting in his lap, and his hands left yours to rest on your lower back. You slid one hand up to tangle in his shaggy brown hair, holding him close.  
He pulled back for a breath and gazed up at you with passion, lust, and adoration in his eyes. “I don’t think I can leave again not knowing when I’ll see you.”  
“Maybe you should stay,” you replied. “Not forever. I know you and Dean lead a busy life. But maybe for a week? Saving the world can wait a week, right?”  
He chuckled softly. “Yeah, I’m sure it can. We’ll stay a week.”  
“Good,” you replied, pecking his lips. “You can stay with me, and Dean can stay in a hotel.”  
Sam laughed against your lips. “I like the sound of that.”


	34. Dean - Start of Something Good

**The Start of Something Good**  
Request for Karisma B  
“Can I request one where the reader and the boys knew each other when they were younger, and she's now a hunter and Sam and Dean run into her during a hunt.”

You held your silver-loaded gun to your chest as you crept through the dark neighborhood. You’d been tracking supernatural activity in this area for weeks, and you’d finally narrowed down the location of the werewolf. You only hoped that he or she would still be in werewolf form when you found him or her. You had a lot more mercy than most hunters. You wouldn’t be able to kill the werewolf if it shifted back into human form. In fact, the only reason you were tracking it was because it had begun killing humans. You’d been in areas before where a werewolf lived, but it only ate animals, so you left it alone. It wasn’t hurting anyone, and if it became an issue, another hunter would take it out.  
But this one was dangerous, and you had to do something about it.  
You stalked down the dark sidewalk, only one streetlamp attempting to illuminate several blocks. The light was dying, casting an eerie glow across the area. You could hear rustling in the bushes to your left; the direction of the park. You gulped and headed that way, keeping your gun close to your chest.  
You weren’t prepared. It launched from behind and tackled you to the ground. You let out a yelp of surprise and your gun flew from your hand on impact. You wrestled with the creature, trying to throw it away from you. It was strong and kept a good hold on your shoulders.  
You heard a gunshot from somewhere to the left and the werewolf fell limply to the side. You sighed in relief before gasping in pain. Two men knelt down beside you, checking you for injuries and asking if you were okay. You sat up with their help and looked around, spotting your gun a few feet away. The shorter of the two noticed and reached out, grabbing your gun and handing it back to you. You nodded in thanks.  
“You’re a hunter?” the taller guessed, and you nodded again.  
“I’ve been tracking it for a few weeks. Finally narrowed down who it was. Damn thing caught me off guard; tackled me from behind,” you explained.  
“You’re hurt,” the shorter one with the deeper voice commented, gingerly touching the back of your right shoulder. You hissed in pain.  
“I fell against that rock when it attacked me,” you replied. They looked at the aforementioned rock and confirmed that there was blood on it. The one with longer hair let out a sigh of relief at knowing you hadn’t gotten scratched.  
“Thanks for ganking it,” you commented as the taller one extended a hand to help you to your feet.  
“No problem,” he replied. “I’m Sam, by the way. This is Dean.”  
Realization struck you and you scolded yourself for not recognizing them before. “Sam? Dean?”  
They stared at you inquisitively. “And you are…?”  
“(y/n),” you replied barely above a whisper.  
Realization hit them too and they quickly enveloped you in a group hug. You let out a laugh and wrapped an arm around each of them, holding them close.  
“It’s been too long!” Dean said as he let go. You bit back a whimper at the loss of contact and nodded.  
“Way too long,” you agreed.  
“Come stay with us,” Sam offered. “For a few days, at least? We’ve got this bunker now. It’s really nice.”  
You looked between them, trying not to let your gaze linger on Dean, and nodded. “Sounds great.”  
As you walked with them back to the Impala- you smiled at the familiar sight- you thought about the last time you’d seen them.  
You were children. Well, almost teenagers. Dean was thirteen, you were eleven, and Sam was nine. Your mother had been a hunter friend of John’s, so you’d grown up with the boys. He often left them at your house when he went on a hunt, and your mother often went with him.  
You’d always had a crush on Dean, though you and Sam were closer friends. Dean had grown up a hunter, whereas Sam had only been in the loop for a couple of years. Dean was more reserved and distant, not wanting to make long-term ties with anyone since they moved so often. Sam was softer and liked being your friend, and you got along well with both of them.  
Now, sitting in the backseat of the Impala, in the middle so you could lean into the front between them, you smiled, deciding that you didn’t want to be without them again.

You stayed with Sam and Dean for a few weeks. It was nice being around people who cared about you after so much time on your own. Your mother died when you were eighteen, and since you had some hunter knowledge before then, you became a full-fledged hunter after. It was lonely, but you didn’t jump around like the boys did. You had a small apartment to yourself, but you did travel around the state for hunts. It gave you something to do, and you’d always wanted to travel.  
Your crush on Dean hadn’t gone away, as you found out when he sauntered into the kitchen wearing nothing but a towel. He had just gotten out of the shower and sneaked up on you while you were making coffee. You nearly choked on the caffeinated liquid and you tried to ignore the smirk on his lips. He knew he had distracted you, but he let you pass it off as an intake of air while you were trying to take a sip.  
You grew closer to Sam as time went on. You had expressed your affections to the younger Winchester, and his response was a knowing smile. He had tried to say that Dean liked you too, but you didn’t believe him. Instead you tried to distance yourself from the older brother, worrying that you wouldn’t be able to control yourself the next time you saw him shirtless.  
Your sudden distance worried Dean. He noticed how much time you spent with Sam, even if you didn’t think he did. He was sure you two were an item, and while he was happy for his little brother, he also felt betrayed. Sam knew of Dean’s feelings for you, so there was no logical reason he would go there.

You and Sam had been hanging out in the living room, laughing and reminiscing about old times. It felt so natural to sit beside him, leaning on his arm or mussing his hair, though you hadn’t seen him in over a decade. You’d missed him and Dean, and you hoped Dean would come around.  
“Why don’t you tell him?” Sam asked.  
You let out a sigh, your laughter dying down. “We’ve been over this, Sam.”  
“Well, explain it again,” he insisted. “He likes you, you like him. Why is that so hard?”  
“It’s dangerous,” you reminded, sighing again. “We’re hunters. You know better than anyone that this job has consequences. If demons found out we were a thing, they’d use one of us to get to the other. We’d be the perfect leverage. And if you’re right about how he feels about me… I can’t do that to him. You guys have lost so much already…”  
It was Sam’s turn to sigh. “I hear what you’re saying. But I still think you should talk to him. At least let him know that you’re not avoiding him because you don’t like him.”  
Your expression turned concerned. “Is that what he thinks?”  
Sam nodded. “He thinks you and I have a thing, and that you don’t like being around him anymore.”  
He left the room, leaving you to ponder this new information. Before you could decide what to do, new footsteps approached. You looked up to see Dean lingering in the doorway.  
“Hey,” you greeted.  
“Hi,” he replied. He took a few steps into the room. “So, I, uh… I overheard you talking to Sammy…”  
You nibbled your lip. “You did? What did you hear?”  
He sat down beside you, his expression soft but solemn. “I heard that you, apparently, have feelings for me, but you don’t want to put me in danger.”  
You nodded and looked at your lap. “Then you also heard that Sam thinks you feel the same for me.”  
Warm, calloused hands reached out to gently grasp your own. “I already knew that.”  
You looked up at him with a gasp on your lips. “Really?”  
He nodded softly. “I’ve always had a soft spot for you, (y/n).”  
“Why didn’t you say anything?”  
“The same reason as you,” he replied with a light chuckle. “Plus, since we met up with you, you’ve been buddying up with Sam, so I thought… you two didn’t need me around.”  
“Dean…” You blew out a breath and looked at him. He leaned in and you knew where he was going. You bit your lip and turned your head.  
“Sorry…” he said awkwardly. “I thought…”  
“You thought right,” you said quickly. “I just… What you overheard still stands. It would be dangerous for us to be together. Demons use whatever they can as a weakness. They’d use us.”  
“(y/n), my job is dangerous every day. There’s no way around that. If we were together, I’d have something new to fight for. I’d have something new to live for. That sounds good to me.”  
You stared up at him, unable to resist the charms you’d fallen in love with over the years. You leaned in, fisting your hands in his shirt. You desperately pressed your lips to his, sighing softly when his arms wrapped around your waist. He pulled you closer, pulling you onto his lap. You shifted so that you had one leg on either side of his waist, your hands sliding up to his neck.  
“I’ve waited years for that,” you admitted against his lips.  
He chuckled. “We have a lot of time to make up for.”  
You blushed at his words. “What about the demons?”  
“We’ll deal with them when they come.”  
He claimed your lips again, his fingers sliding under the hem of your shirt and digging into the bare skin there. You let out a noise of contentment as he shifted you so that you were lying down with him hovering above you. You spent the night in pure bliss, making up for lost time and starting something new.


	35. Sam - High School Never Ends

**High School Never Ends**  
Request for Daisy  
“Reader is Jo's girlfriend . Dean and Sam attend Sam's highschool reunion. Reader sees they why Jo looks at Dean and breaks up with Jo. Reader depressed about Jo goes to a bar. She and Sam have a one night stand .”

“We really don’t have to do this,” Sam protested for the umpteenth time as he straightened his tie.  
“Sure we do!” Dean replied with a grin. “Come on, Sammy. It’s your high school reunion. It’ll be fun.”  
“You really don’t know what high school was like for me,” the younger brother shook his head. “I wasn’t the popular kid like you.”  
“Well, I didn’t get to go to my reunion,” the older reminded, “so we’re going to yours.”  
The brothers were working a case in the town where they’d gone to high school. While cruising the streets for witnesses, they saw several flyers promoting a high school reunion. When the boys realized that it was Sam’s high school, Dean got excited and decided that they were going.  
“Maybe we’ll see (y/n) again,” Dean said with a grin. Sam blushed. You and Sam were best friends all through high school, and unbeknownst to you, Sam had quite a crush on you.  
“Maybe,” Sam agreed, not wanting to admit that the thought of seeing you again made him want to go.

You entered the night club that had been rented out for your high school reunion, your arm linked with your girlfriend’s. She shot you a supportive smile as you nervously glanced around the room. The decorators had gone with a retro theme; balloons and streamers were posted around the room in your old school colors, a banner stating your high school name and mascot was stretched across one wall, and music that used to be played at your school dances was softly floating from the speakers in every corner. You dropped your arm and reached for your girlfriend’s hand, squeezing it gently. She returned it reassuringly and led you inside.  
“You’re hotter than anyone here,” she stated as you headed over to the snack table. You smiled softly and looked down at your dress. It was (f/c) and soft, clinging to your chest and flowing elegantly from your waist to your knees. Your hair was pinned up, adorned with a plastic flower crown. Not one for dresses, Jo wore a white button-down blouse and dark wash skinny jeans.  
Holding a plastic cup of red juice in your hand, you turned to look around the room. In a second you spotted two tall, handsome men lingering in a corner. They were much taller than you remembered, but you knew exactly who they were.  
“Feel like meeting the guy I had a massive crush on in my senior year?”  
“Not really,” Jo replied, a smile on her lips. She rested a hand on your waist. “Lead the way.”  
You sauntered over to the boys and smiled awkwardly. “Is it really you, Sam Winchester?”  
“(y/n) (l/n),” Dean grinned in response. He then looked at the blonde beside you. “Jo?”  
You looked between them and her. “You know the Winchesters.”  
Jo nodded. “Met them on a hunt.”  
“Small world,” you mused.  
“Wait, you’re a hunter?” Sam asked.  
You shook your head. “I just know about the things that go bump in the night. I don’t hunt them.”  
You spent the next few hours chatting with Sam, reminiscing about things you used to do together. Afternoons spent at the park or in the football field, study dates at your house with some excuse about how you couldn’t go to his house (because he was too embarrassed to tell you that he lived in a motel), the butterflies that erupted in your belly whenever you saw him… He was the reason you swore off guys and explored the other side. You’d been hurt and rejected by guys too many times. You met Jo shortly after graduating. You were friends for several years before a night of drinks and cards led to making out on the couch. Confessions ensued the next morning, and you’d been together since.  
You felt guilty when old butterflies fluttered about in your belly. You glanced over to Jo, who’d been hanging out with Dean while you were reliving your senior year. You saw Dean standing a bit too close, and you could swear his arm, was around her waist. When he leaned in and whispered something in her ear, causing her to giggle, hurt and anger bubbled inside you. Sam noticed your changed expression and followed your gaze, his jaw dropping when he saw Jo place a hand on Dean’s chest.  
“I guess I was just a distraction until she saw Dean again,” you said bitterly through gritted teeth. Before Sam could reply, you turned and left the club, not caring that you would now have to walk home because you had come in Jo’s truck. You walked down the sidewalk to the nearest bar and started a tab.

You awoke the next morning with a pounding headache and a groan on your lips. The small crack of light that peeked through the break in the curtains felt like you were staring directly into the sun. You rolled onto your side to bury your face into the pillow, your eyes snapping open when you felt an arm tighten around your waist. Looking down, you saw the arm in question was tan and muscular. Your gaze travelled up the arm to the attached shoulder and the rest of the body from there. Your mouth hung open when you saw a sleeping Sam Winchester lying beside you. He was shirtless, and now that you had looked at yourself, you realized you were too. Heat flooded to your cheeks when you recalled the night before.  
A groan from your side alerted you that the naked Winchester was waking up. He smiled upon seeing your face, and his arm only tightened more. He nuzzled his nose into your shoulder, pressing a kiss to the skin there.  
“Sam…” you began cautiously.  
“Mm?” he murmured half consciously.  
“What did we do?”  
He opened his eyes and looked at you. “I think it’s pretty obvious what we did.”  
Your cheeks burned hotter at the reminder. “I know, Sam, but…”  
“But?” he prompted, propping himself up on his elbow so he could look at you.  
You looked up at him. “I have Jo…”  
His face turned serious. “That wasn’t what it looked like last night.”  
You cringed at the memory. Dean had been all over Jo, and she didn’t seem to be pushing him away… “Is this what you want?”  
He leaned over you and pressed a sweet, gentle kiss to your lips. “I’ve wanted this since our senior year. I was just too shy, and I never knew how long we were going to stay, so I didn’t want to start something and then have to leave. But yes, this is what I want.”  
When you didn’t respond, he asked, “Is this what you want?”  
You reached up to tangle a hand in his hair and pulled his lips back to yours. “Yes.”  
He smiled against your lips and slid a hand down to rest on your waist. Even completely naked, you felt comfortable with the young Winchester. He always made you feel safe and loved. You lost yourself in his arms and his lips, not caring what happened next as long as you had him.


	36. Balthazar - Undercover

**Undercover**  
Request for TheGameIsOn97  
“Maybe you could do a Balthazar one where Y/N has to go undercover on a case for Sam and Dean, but she ends up getting separated from them and kidnapped by a demon, or vampire, or whatever monster you wish.”

Well, this didn’t work out.

You were hunting with Sam and Dean, and they decided that you should go undercover and see what you could find out. You were cute and female and people generally gave you more information than they did the boys. They were hunting a vamp that liked to frequent the local bar between meals, so you were going to go in as a newcomer in town and pretend you were trying to get to know the residents.  
You wore tight jeans and a tube top, with high-heeled ankle boots and your hair was pinned out of your face. It was an alluring ensemble and you were showing just enough skin to entice a vamp into a conversation. You sauntered into the bar with a smile on your lips and a swing in your hips, effectively catching the attention of every male patron and bartender. You took a seat at the counter and smiled at one of the only females in the joint.  
“Looking for attention?” she asked.  
You smiled sweetly and downed the shot she poured you. “Just trying to find a nice man to take me home. My car won’t start and I don’t wanna walk.”  
Several men approached you with offers, so you decided to strike a conversation with each of them. All of them were drunks that just wanted to take you home. None of them were the guy you were looking for. You turned them all away with a sigh and took another shot.  
“Do I get a turn?” a deep voice asked. You turned to see a tall, dark and handsome man approaching. You plastered on a smile and looked at him.  
“Of course you do.”  
He smirked as he sat beside you, his hand on your thigh. You wanted nothing more than to throw his hand away, but you couldn’t until you determined if this was the right guy.  
“I bet I could make you happy,” he whispered, leaning in close. “I’ve got a place with some friends. I’ve got all you need to make the pain go away.”  
Was he a vampire or a drug-dealer?  
“What kind of place?” you asked with feigned interest.  
“It’s dark and underground. No one knows about it unless they’re supposed to. We only travel at night, so this is your only shot.”  
Bingo.  
“Sounds like a good time,” you replied. “Can I come?”  
He looked up and grinned at you. “It would be my pleasure.” He stood and grabbed your arm, leading you out of the bar. Your heart pounded but you continued feigning excitement over this dark man and his mysterious intentions.

Turns out you weren’t as good an actress as you liked to believe. Your seductive gestures weren’t as convincing as they used to be. The vamp quickly determined that you were a threat, not a new recruit. He tied you to a chair and looked down at you, his second and third in command smirking behind him.  
“Who are you with?” the leader asked. “Which hunter?”  
“I don’t know any hunters,” you lied.  
He gripped your face hard enough to make you gasp. Vamps were strong. Any more pressure and he could break your jaw. “I’ll ask again. Which hunter are you with?” He stared into your eyes before his lit up. “You’re the Winchester girl, aren’t you?”  
The two behind him looked surprised. “The Winchester’s pet?”  
The leader nodded. “I heard they took on a new hunter but I didn’t think they’d be stupid enough to let her hunt on her own. Look at you. You couldn’t even take down one vampire!”  
He leaned in again, his mouth open and fangs bared. You closed your eyes as his lips brushed against your neck. This was it. So much for being a hunter.  
He was suddenly flung across the room. You opened your eyes to see a tall man standing between you and the vamps. No, not a man… an angel. You smiled. Balthazar.  
He turned over his shoulder to look at you. “Miss me, darling?”  
You grinned as he smote the vamps and untied you. You wrapped your arms around him as he lifted you bridal style. With a flutter of wings you were in the living room of the bunker. He set you on the couch with a smile before sitting beside you.  
“How did you know where I was? That I needed help?” you asked.  
“I can always sense you,” he replied. “And if you think about me loudly enough, it’s like a prayer, and I can find you.”  
“I’m always thinking about you,” you noted, snuggling against his chest. “I guess that’s a good thing.”  
He chuckled and held you close. “I certainly don’t mind.”

“I can’t believe she’s gone,” Sam sighed.  
“She’s not gone,” Dean argued. “She’s just missing.”  
“How did we let her go missing?” the younger asked, trudging through the hall.  
“She was undercover,” Dean reminded. “She said she could handle it, and we needed her to.”  
“Balthazar’s gonna kill us,” Sam reminded.  
The older brother groaned. “Don’t remind me. I don’t need another angel on my ass.”  
They ceased their commentary when they heard laughter coming from the living room – feminine laughter that sounded remarkably like you. They slowly entered the room to see you and Balthazar lying on the couch, each holding a glass of wine. You were giggling about something that Bal had said, and he was grinning proudly.  
“(y/n)?” Dean greeted in surprise. You looked up at the brothers and were about to greet them when Bal stood abruptly, glaring them down.  
“Bal-“ you were cut off.  
“How dare you?!” the angel bellowed. “How dare you leave this girl alone at a bar to be picked up by vampire filth?”  
“It wasn’t like we just walked away,” Dean defended. “We had a plan.”  
“A stupid plan!” Balthazar argued. “You should have followed her, kept an eye on her. Do you know what they were doing when I showed up? The leader was about to feed on her!”  
Sam glanced at you with an apologetic expression, and you nodded to say that it was okay.  
“I should smite you right here and now for almost getting her killed,” the angel concluded. Dean rolled his eyes and Sam apologized again. You stood beside Bal and held his arm, looking up at him. His expression softened when he felt your contact.  
“It’s okay,” you said. “I’m alive and well, thanks to you. No smiting them, please? I live with them. I’d kind of like them alive.”  
He sighed dramatically. “Fine. But only for you, darling.” He leaned down and kissed your head. Sam smiled at the two of you before dragging Dean away from the room, giving you some privacy. You settled back down on the couch beside Balthazar, snuggling against his chest. With a snap of his fingers, the TV was on and playing your favorite movie. You smiled as he held you close, pressing kissed to your head and face, his arms wrapped securely around you.


	37. Dean - Happy Days

**Happy Days**  
Request for Blossom  
“Father!Dean. Dean and a demon have a baby. Cas tells Dean that Reader is pure evil. When Reader was 7 she starts killing people. Reader is now 17 and works for crowley as a crossroad demon. Sam and Dean learn about her working for Crowley. Dean hesitates bout killing reader.”

“Dean, she’s dangerous,” Cas warned for the umpteenth time.  
Dean groaned. “You think I don’t know that, Cas? She started killing innocent people when she was a child! I know she’s dangerous! That’s what happens when you’re half demon.”  
“We have to do something about her,” the angel continued. “She’s working for Crowley.”  
“What?” Sam asked in surprise.  
Cas nodded. “She’s the Queen of Crossroads. She’s in charge of collecting souls.”  
Dean sighed. “My daughter is the Queen of Crossroads.”  
“She must be stopped. She’s more powerful than she should be. She might even be more powerful than Crowley. If we don’t do something, she could very likely be the next Queen of Hell,” Cas explained.  
“Meaning that she killed her way up the chain of command?” Sam guessed.  
The angel nodded again. “I would not put it past her.”  
“I can’t just kill her,” Dean said, his voice soft. “She’s my daughter. I know she’s a monster, but she’s my daughter. I can’t just kill her.”  
“Let’s go talk to her,” Sam suggested. “Maybe we can reason with her.”  
“Unlikely,” Cas argued. After a pointed look from the older Winchester, he sighed. “Fine. We will visit her.” He placed a hand on each of the brothers’ shoulders and flew them to the nearest crossroad.

“Daddy,” you greeted with a grin on your lips. “What a pleasant surprise. Oh, you brought Uncle Sammy and your angel boyfriend too.”  
“When did you start working for Crowley?” Dean asked.  
“What, no ‘it’s nice to see you, (y/n)’?” you replied with a smirk. “Fine. Straight to the point. I got the job a few months ago.”  
“Why didn’t you tell me?”  
You shrugged. “There are a lot of things we don’t tell each other. I thought that was just how Winchesters behave. They like to keep secrets.”  
The boys couldn’t argue, but that didn’t mean they wouldn’t try.  
“So you’re the Queen of Crossroads?” Sam said.  
You nodded proudly. “Nice title, isn’t it? Had to work my ass off to get here. Once Crowley realized that I could take on his biggest, baddest demons all by myself, he promoted me. I’ve collected more souls in the past month than any other demon could in a year.”  
Dean cringed at how smug you sounded. “Oh yeah? How’s that?”  
“I’m very persuasive,” you replied. “Plus, I kill them before they can change their minds.”  
“What about the ten year agreement?” Sam asked. “How can you kill them sooner?”  
“I just can,” you shrugged. “Crowley assigned me my own personal Hellhound. I just sic him after the poor bastards and take their souls as trophies. Crowley doesn’t mind if I shorten the deal.”  
The boys looked at each other, deciding what to do with you. Dean constantly shook his head, which meant they were discussing the idea of killing you. You smirked to yourself. They weren’t strong enough to kill their own family, even if you were the Queen of Crossroads.”  
Sam approached you with angry determination on his face. You glanced down and saw the demon knife gripped tightly in his right hand. You looked up at him with wide eyes, immediately playing innocent.  
“Uncle Sammy? What are you doing? Put that knife down!”  
Dean reached out to stop him, but Cas held him back.  
“It’s for her own good, Dean,” the angel insisted. Sam stared at you as though you were just a demon and not his niece. Despite the fact that you were going to die, you had to admire his ability to focus. Before you could let out another protest, the blade pierced your abdomen. Your mouth flew open in a scream as the light flashed from your eyes. You fell unconscious to the ground, your head slamming into a rock on the way down. Sam looked down at his feet as he turned back to his brother. Dean was biting back tears, looking away from your dead body.  
“I’m sorry, Dean,” Sam whispered. “It had to be done.”  
“I know,” Dean nodded. “Can we go now?”

Two months later, the boys happened to return to that town for a different hunt. Dean had hesitated at first, but Sam convinced him to go. A good hunt would take his mind off of things. He still hadn’t gotten over your death.  
“How about breakfast?” Sam asked, turning the wheel to head into the parking lot of the local diner. He got to drive Baby a lot more now that Dean was sullen and depressed. The older brother didn’t say a word as they got out of the car and headed inside. The sign in front of the counter said “Please seat yourself,” so Sam led his brother to a booth in the corner. The hostess took their orders of two coffees, smiling as she dropped off some menus and headed back to the counter.  
“Dean, come on,” the younger brother urged. “You need to eat something. You can’t burn a ghost on an empty stomach.”  
Dean sighed and opened his menu, trying to lose himself in the daily specials. He was successful until the waitress approached the table and introduced herself.  
“Hey, there. My name is (y/n) and I’ll be your waitress. Do you need another minute to look over the menu?”  
Both of their heads snapped up to look at you, causing you to raise a brow in surprise.  
“I didn’t mean to startle you boys.”  
“(y/n)?” Dean whispered, looking you over. You looked just the same as he remembered, but with beautiful (e/c) eyes instead of soulless black.  
“Yes, sir,” you replied, tilting your head. “Are you alright?”  
“He’s fine,” Sam replied quickly. “You just remind us of someone, is all.”  
“You know, I get that a lot,” you replied. You smiled. “I’ll give you boys another minute.” And you walked away.  
“There’s no way,” Dean said, looking at his brother.  
“I killed her…” Sam replied. “You watched me kill her. How?”  
“Skin changer?” the older guessed.  
“Or…” the younger mused.  
“Or?”  
“What if her human half kept her awake? What if I only killed her demon half?”  
“But you stabbed her. How could she survive being stabbed?”  
“I didn’t stab any vital organs. You don’t need to, to kill a demon. So maybe someone found her and stitched her up and now she’s human.”  
Dean turned in his seat to see you sauntering up to the table with two coffees in your hands. He feigned a smile as you set them on the table and asked if they were ready to order. Sam ordered pancakes and Dean had eggs, and they both stared at you intently while you wrote it all down. You smiled at them before shuffling away, with both of them staring after you.  
“Should we talk to her?” Sam asked.  
Dean shook his head. “No. If she has a normal life now, let her have it. She doesn’t need to be reminded of her past. She seems happy now.”  
They watched as you conversed cheerfully with some other customers, and Dean’s heart swelled at the sight of seeing you so happy.  
Sam nodded in agreement. “She is happy now.”


	38. Dean - Reverse This Curse

**Reverse This Curse**  
Request for Orla-May  
“If your not too busy could you do one where y/n gets turned into a small child by a witch and dean has to look after her until they kill the witch.”

“What the Hell are we supposed to do now?” Dean demanded.  
“Watch your language around the child,” Sam teased.  
Dean glared at his brother. “She’s not a child. She’s (y/n).”  
Sam looked at you, now four years old and wandering aimlessly around the motel room, then looked back at Dean. “She’s (y/n) as a child.”  
Dean groaned. “I repeat: what the Hell are we supposed to do now?”  
Sam let out a sigh and sat at the table. “I don’t know. Find out how to reverse it?”  
“Can we reverse it?” Dean asked.  
“We reversed that spell that turned you into a girl,” Sam reminded. (1)  
Dean glared again. “We promised never to speak of that again.”  
The taller brother chuckled. “Just pointing out that we’ve reversed witch magic before. We just need to do a lot of research and find out which spell she used. If we’re lucky, it’ll wear off in its own time.”  
“But how long is its own time?” the older brother sighed. “We can’t take care of a four year old (y/n) forever.”  
They glanced over to where you had picked up Dean’s hunting bag and were dumping its contents out all over the motel room floor. Dean jumped up and rushed over to you, groaning about the mess as he took the bag from your hands and began stuffing everything back in. You pouted at the loss of your new toy and then shrugged, looking for something else to do. You wandered over to the bag of research books that Sam had brought, pulling them out one at a time. Some of them you opened out of curiosity; others you just threw aside without a care. You let out a frustrated noise when none of the books had pretty pictures in them. Sam sighed and began picking up the books.  
“We have to do something,” he said.  
“You think?” Dean replied sassily. “What can we do?”  
“Do you think Cas could help?” Sam wondered. “Angels might know something about spells.”  
They began calling for Cas, and within moments, the trenchcoat-clad angel stood in the center of the room.  
“Sam, Dean,” he greeted. “What do you need?”  
Sam picked you up, much to you delight. “We need to reverse a spell.”  
“I don’t understand,” the angel replied.  
“This is (y/n),” Dean explained. “A witch turned her into a child and we need to figure out how to turn her back.”  
Cas nodded, tensing up when you reached out to him.  
Sam chuckled. “She wants you to hold her.”  
“I- I don’t-“  
Before Cas could protest, you had already wiggled out of Sam’s arms and were clinging to the angel’s coat. Cas complied reluctantly, wrapping his arms around your middle. You wrapped your legs around his waist for support, giggling lightly. Your eyes lit up when the angel passed you to Dean, who held you close, now that he had an excuse to.  
“I will see what I can find out,” Cas said before he fluttered away.  
“I’ll hunt down the witch,” Sam offered. He gathered his research books and his weapons and headed outside.  
“What am I supposed to do?” Dean called after him.  
“Take care of (y/n)!” Sam replied, closing the motel door behind him. Dean let out a huff and looked at you, still in his arms. You cling to his plaid button-up and looked up at him with sparkling (e/c) eyes.  
He smiled softly at you. He had an excuse to be protective and hold you close. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad.

He fixed you lunch- a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, because he didn’t have a lot of supplies in the motel and he remembered it was your favorite sandwich- and smiled as you settled down on the couch to eat.  
“How about a movie?” he suggested, and you nodded excitedly.  
Dean sat beside you on the couch and turned on the TV, flipping through the channels. It was mostly news and sports – nothing either of you found interesting. He eventually found a kids channel which was playing The Lion King. You let out a happy noise and settled against Dean’s side, finishing your lunch. Dean picked you up and set you on his lab, and you nestled into his chest. He smiled and held you close. He wished he could hold you close all the time.  
He began to panic when he heard you sniffle. He looked at you and saw tears down your cheeks. “Hey,” he cooed softly. “What’s wrong?”  
You continued looking at the movie, tears streaming down your face. Dean looked up and nodded in understanding. It had gotten to the scene where Mufasa was thrown off the cliff and fell to the trampling wildebeests.  
“It’s okay,” he said softly, cradling you against his chest. “It’s just a movie.”  
Simba’s sadness amplified your own and you cried more. Dean shushed you and rocked you back and forth, his arms circling you protectively. You calmed down by the time they introduced Timon and Pumbaa. Your breathing evened out and you relaxed in Dean’s arms. He smiled and carded his fingers through your hair. You fell asleep against his chest after “Hakuna Matatta” ended.

The next morning, Dean awoke alone. A pout formed on his lips as he looked around, and then panic set in. You were a still a toddler. Where had you gone? He jumped off the couch and began looking frantically before a familiar giggle stopped him in his tracks. He spun on his heel and turned towards the kitchen where you stood, full grown, in front of the counter.  
“(y/n)?” he greeted in surprise.  
“Hi, Dean,” you returned. You picked up a plate from the counter and held it out to him. “Bacon?”  
He took a piece, looking at you cautiously. “Sam reversed the spell?”  
You nodded. “Killing the witch reverses all of her magic.”  
“Where’s Sam?”  
“Sleeping.”  
Dean turned towards one of the queen-sized beds and found Sam passed out on top of the blanket. His heart sunk a little at the realization that his excuse to hold you close was gone. He was brought out of his thoughts when arms snaked around his neck.  
“Thank you for taking care of me,” you said.  
He blushed furiously. “You’re welcome.”  
“I remember everything,” you said with a smile. “I remember how you held me. I remember how panicked you were when I cried. I remember how caring you were.”  
He nodded stiffly. “Well, I had to make sure you were okay. You were four.”  
“There was more to it, wasn’t there?” you guessed, looking into his emerald eyes. “It wasn’t just looking out for my wellbeing. There was something deeper.”  
He stared at you, and for a moment you thought you misinterpreted him. Then his arms wrapped around your waist, bringing your chest against his. You smiled at him. You’d guessed right.  
Using your arms around his neck, you brought his lips to yours. He responded immediately and you let out a soft sigh. Your lips melded together perfectly as your eyes fluttered closed. Your fingers tangled in the short hairs on the back of his neck while his hands fisted in the hem of your shirt.  
You pulled back for a breath and smiled at him. “Wanna watch a movie?”  
He chuckled and nodded, leading you to the couch. You plopped down on his lap like you’d done as a child. You snuggled into his chest while Dean turned on the TV, flipping through the channels until he found Disney. You sighed contently, alternating between watching the movie and pressing soft kisses to Dean’s face.

 

(1)I couldn’t think of an example where they reversed a witch’s spell so I made one up.  
Reverse This Curse  
Request for Orla-May  
“If your not too busy could you do one where y/n gets turned into a small child by a witch and dean has to look after her until they kill the witch.”

“What the Hell are we supposed to do now?” Dean demanded.  
“Watch your language around the child,” Sam teased.  
Dean glared at his brother. “She’s not a child. She’s (y/n).”  
Sam looked at you, now four years old and wandering aimlessly around the motel room, then looked back at Dean. “She’s (y/n) as a child.”  
Dean groaned. “I repeat: what the Hell are we supposed to do now?”  
Sam let out a sigh and sat at the table. “I don’t know. Find out how to reverse it?”  
“Can we reverse it?” Dean asked.  
“We reversed that spell that turned you into a girl,” Sam reminded. (1)  
Dean glared again. “We promised never to speak of that again.”  
The taller brother chuckled. “Just pointing out that we’ve reversed witch magic before. We just need to do a lot of research and find out which spell she used. If we’re lucky, it’ll wear off in its own time.”  
“But how long is its own time?” the older brother sighed. “We can’t take care of a four year old (y/n) forever.”  
They glanced over to where you had picked up Dean’s hunting bag and were dumping its contents out all over the motel room floor. Dean jumped up and rushed over to you, groaning about the mess as he took the bag from your hands and began stuffing everything back in. You pouted at the loss of your new toy and then shrugged, looking for something else to do. You wandered over to the bag of research books that Sam had brought, pulling them out one at a time. Some of them you opened out of curiosity; others you just threw aside without a care. You let out a frustrated noise when none of the books had pretty pictures in them. Sam sighed and began picking up the books.  
“We have to do something,” he said.  
“You think?” Dean replied sassily. “What can we do?”  
“Do you think Cas could help?” Sam wondered. “Angels might know something about spells.”  
They began calling for Cas, and within moments, the trenchcoat-clad angel stood in the center of the room.  
“Sam, Dean,” he greeted. “What do you need?”  
Sam picked you up, much to you delight. “We need to reverse a spell.”  
“I don’t understand,” the angel replied.  
“This is (y/n),” Dean explained. “A witch turned her into a child and we need to figure out how to turn her back.”  
Cas nodded, tensing up when you reached out to him.  
Sam chuckled. “She wants you to hold her.”  
“I- I don’t-“  
Before Cas could protest, you had already wiggled out of Sam’s arms and were clinging to the angel’s coat. Cas complied reluctantly, wrapping his arms around your middle. You wrapped your legs around his waist for support, giggling lightly. Your eyes lit up when the angel passed you to Dean, who held you close, now that he had an excuse to.  
“I will see what I can find out,” Cas said before he fluttered away.  
“I’ll hunt down the witch,” Sam offered. He gathered his research books and his weapons and headed outside.  
“What am I supposed to do?” Dean called after him.  
“Take care of (y/n)!” Sam replied, closing the motel door behind him. Dean let out a huff and looked at you, still in his arms. You cling to his plaid button-up and looked up at him with sparkling (e/c) eyes.  
He smiled softly at you. He had an excuse to be protective and hold you close. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad.

He fixed you lunch- a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, because he didn’t have a lot of supplies in the motel and he remembered it was your favorite sandwich- and smiled as you settled down on the couch to eat.  
“How about a movie?” he suggested, and you nodded excitedly.  
Dean sat beside you on the couch and turned on the TV, flipping through the channels. It was mostly news and sports – nothing either of you found interesting. He eventually found a kids channel which was playing The Lion King. You let out a happy noise and settled against Dean’s side, finishing your lunch. Dean picked you up and set you on his lab, and you nestled into his chest. He smiled and held you close. He wished he could hold you close all the time.  
He began to panic when he heard you sniffle. He looked at you and saw tears down your cheeks. “Hey,” he cooed softly. “What’s wrong?”  
You continued looking at the movie, tears streaming down your face. Dean looked up and nodded in understanding. It had gotten to the scene where Mufasa was thrown off the cliff and fell to the trampling wildebeests.  
“It’s okay,” he said softly, cradling you against his chest. “It’s just a movie.”  
Simba’s sadness amplified your own and you cried more. Dean shushed you and rocked you back and forth, his arms circling you protectively. You calmed down by the time they introduced Timon and Pumbaa. Your breathing evened out and you relaxed in Dean’s arms. He smiled and carded his fingers through your hair. You fell asleep against his chest after “Hakuna Matatta” ended.

The next morning, Dean awoke alone. A pout formed on his lips as he looked around, and then panic set in. You were a still a toddler. Where had you gone? He jumped off the couch and began looking frantically before a familiar giggle stopped him in his tracks. He spun on his heel and turned towards the kitchen where you stood, full grown, in front of the counter.  
“(y/n)?” he greeted in surprise.  
“Hi, Dean,” you returned. You picked up a plate from the counter and held it out to him. “Bacon?”  
He took a piece, looking at you cautiously. “Sam reversed the spell?”  
You nodded. “Killing the witch reverses all of her magic.”  
“Where’s Sam?”  
“Sleeping.”  
Dean turned towards one of the queen-sized beds and found Sam passed out on top of the blanket. His heart sunk a little at the realization that his excuse to hold you close was gone. He was brought out of his thoughts when arms snaked around his neck.  
“Thank you for taking care of me,” you said.  
He blushed furiously. “You’re welcome.”  
“I remember everything,” you said with a smile. “I remember how you held me. I remember how panicked you were when I cried. I remember how caring you were.”  
He nodded stiffly. “Well, I had to make sure you were okay. You were four.”  
“There was more to it, wasn’t there?” you guessed, looking into his emerald eyes. “It wasn’t just looking out for my wellbeing. There was something deeper.”  
He stared at you, and for a moment you thought you misinterpreted him. Then his arms wrapped around your waist, bringing your chest against his. You smiled at him. You’d guessed right.  
Using your arms around his neck, you brought his lips to yours. He responded immediately and you let out a soft sigh. Your lips melded together perfectly as your eyes fluttered closed. Your fingers tangled in the short hairs on the back of his neck while his hands fisted in the hem of your shirt.  
You pulled back for a breath and smiled at him. “Wanna watch a movie?”  
He chuckled and nodded, leading you to the couch. You plopped down on his lap like you’d done as a child. You snuggled into his chest while Dean turned on the TV, flipping through the channels until he found Disney. You sighed contently, alternating between watching the movie and pressing soft kisses to Dean’s face.

 

(1)I couldn’t think of an example where they reversed a witch’s spell so I made one up.


	39. Platonic - The Winchesters

**The Winchesters**  
Request for Butterfly  
A/N: It’s a shorter one.  
Mom!Reader  
“Reader is Dean and Sam's mother. Reader is pregnant with Sam.”

You stood in front of the counter, rolling cookie dough in your hands before placing the ball forms on the cookie sheet beside you. The oven was preheating, offering you comfortable warmth from where it sat beside the counter you were working at. You heard small feet thundering down the stairs and smiled softly. Dean must have woken up from his nap.  
“Mommy!” your four year old cried, rushing into the room and up to your side. “What are you doing?”  
You smiled down at him. “I’m making cookies.”  
His eyes lit up. “Cookies?”  
You giggled and nodded, rolling the last bit of dough into a ball and placing it on the cookie sheet. There was just enough left for a taste test, so you scooped it out of the bowl with a spoon and offered it to Dean. He took it and shoved it in his mouth with a happy grin.  
“Where’s Daddy?” he inquired sweetly around the chocolate chips.  
“He’s at the office, honey,” you replied instantly. That was what you always told Dean, whether John was actually at the office or not. You saw the frown on your son’s face and tilted your head. “What’s wrong, honey?”  
“I miss him,” he replied simply.  
You smiled. “How about you draw him a picture?”  
“Will you help me?”  
“Of course.”  
He ran off to get paper and crayons from the living room. You smiled and set the cookies in the oven before walking over to the dining room table and sitting down. You blew out a breath and rested a hand on your swollen belly. You were nine months pregnant with Dean’s little brother. He was supposed to be born any day now.  
Dean returned to the dining room with drawing supplies in hand. He sat in the chair beside you and dumped the crayons all over the table. He began scribbling away at what looked like a stick figure (presumably John). He added a smaller stick figure, then a stick figure with long hair holding a baby stick figure.  
“Is that me and your baby brother?” you asked.  
He nodded with a smile. “What’s my brother’s name?”  
“I was thinking about Sean,” you replied. You liked S names.  
Dean pouted, obviously disappointed in your choice.  
You chuckled. “What do you want to name him, then?”  
Dean turned to you with an innocent expression. “I wanna call him Sammy.”  
“Okay. We’ll name him Sammy.” Before you could say anything more, a cramp in your belly ripped a scream from your throat. Dean’s face contorted into concern as you clutched your baby bump.  
“Dean,” you said between gasps of pain. “Call Daddy. Tell him your brother is coming.”

John rushed home and packed you and Dean into the car before speeding to the hospital. You had to repeatedly reassure Dean that you and the baby were fine as you waited for someone to take you to the delivery room. John stayed with you for most of the labor, but you insisted that Dean didn’t need to be there, because it was inappropriate for a four year old, and you convinced John to leave and take Dean to get some food. You promised the both of them that you would have the hospital call when the baby was born.

You lie awake in your hospital bed. After nine hours of labor and a two hour nap, you were contently holding your newborn son in your arms. He was sleeping soundly, a baby blue beanie keeping his head warm. You smiled down at him before a knock on the doorframe caught your attention. Turning towards it, your smile grew when you saw John and Dean standing there.  
“Come in,” you urged, and Dean immediately ran to your side. He stared at the baby in your arms with obvious interest, reaching out to place a hand on his head.  
“Don’t you want to show Mom your drawing?” John asked.  
Dean nodded eagerly, shoving a hand into his pocket. When he brought it back out, he was holding a folded up piece of paper. He handed it to you to unfold, and the contents made your brow quirk in confusion. The drawing was a stick figure with long hair, much like his earlier drawing of you and the baby. Only now you were bloody, and your mouth was open in a scream. Beside you was a black figure with yellow eyes and an evil grin, looming over you like a Grim Reaper. You looked at Dean, trying to hide your concern.  
“What is this, honey?”  
“It’s a demon,” he replied. “It’s going to hurt you, Mommy.”  
You looked up at John with furrowed brows. John pulled up a chair and sat down close to the bed, picking Dean up and setting him on his lap.  
“Nothing’s gonna happen to Mommy,” he promised, though Dean wasn’t convinced.  
“I’m perfectly fine,” you insisted. “There’s no reason for me to get hurt.”  
Dean nodded and decided to change the subject. “What’s my brother’s name?”  
“Sammy,” you replied with a smile. “Just like I promised.”  
Dean beamed and asked to hold him. You passed him to John who helped Dean support the baby’s head. You smiled at the two of them, reaching a hand out to hold Dean’s arm. He was ecstatic to be a big brother, and you were glad you had such a wonderful family.


	40. Garth - Size Me Up

**Size Me Up**  
A/N: I’ve recently taken an interest in Garth so I decided to try my hand at writing him.  
I wrote a couple paragraphs but they got deleted, so I had to start over. I then decided to make it an insecure!reader story. Reader is short and is constantly teased for it.  
“You’re Bobby’s daughter and while the boys are staying with you for a hunt, he introduces them to Garth so he can help out.”

You stood on your tip toes, swiping the soapy car sponge across the roof of your 1980 Jeep Laredo. You had to really reach to effectively clean the top. Standing back on your heels, you looked at the suds dripping down the sleek black exterior, which had turned brown from when you took a joy ride through the mud a few weeks back. Sam and Dean had taken a break from hunting and spent the weekend with you at Bobby’s. Excited to drive your new car, the three of you decided to kick it into four wheel and see what it could do. The black quickly turned to brown and it was almost unrecognizable by the time you brought it back home.  
It was in desperate need of a bath.  
You dropped the sponge back into the bucket of soapy water as the familiar roar of the Impala’s engine sounded in your ears. You turned with a grin on your lips to the driveway where the classic car was making its way towards the house. The boys were working a case in town and were crashing with you and Bobby for the duration. You were just picking up the hose to rinse off your car when the Impala’s doors opened and the boys got out, bringing a friend with them.  
Dean approached you first, wrapping you in a hug. He towered over you, your four-foot-eleven frame looking to be about half of his six-foot-one. You smiled as he ruffled your hair, loosening the messy bun you’d put it in.  
“How ya doing, shortstack?” he grinned. Your smile faltered at the nickname and you turned your attention to Sam. He wrapped his arms around your waist and lifted you off your feet, giving you a bone-crushing hug. As much as you loved the Sasquatch, you hated standing next to him. You looked like a baby doll compared to the Winchesters.  
“How’s my favorite dwarf?” he asked.  
“Ha ha,” you replied humorlessly. You never let them see how much it truly got to you. “I’m fine. Just getting all the mud off my baby. How’s the hunt?”  
“Crappy,” Dean replied, heading towards the house. “We have no idea what we’re dealing with.”  
“I’m thinking it’s a ghost,” an unfamiliar voice said from behind the boys. You looked around Sam to see an equally tall man, though he appeared small since he was so thin.  
“Who are you?” you asked cautiously. Why would Sam and Dean bring a stranger home?  
Sam looked between the two of you. “That’s Garth. You don’t know him?”  
“Should I?” you inquired, wondering if you’d met him before. You were sure you’d have remembered. He was cute.  
“Bobby suggested him,” Dean said. “We assumed you knew him.”  
A pout formed on your lips. You knew all of your dad’s hunter friends… Well, apparently not. You plastered on a smile and offered a soapy hand. “Hey. I’m (y/n).”  
“Pleasure to meet you,” Garth replied, accepting your hand and placing a kiss on your knuckles. Your insides melted and your legs turned to jelly, and you struggled to keep a sober expression. You watched as the three of them headed inside to where Bobby was making dinner. Once they were gone, you let out a sigh and turned your attention back to the hose in your free hand. You turned it on and sprayed the soap and dirt from your car, leaving it to dry in the sun before you headed into the house yourself.

You were still a little hurt that you hadn’t met Garth before. He seemed to have known your dad a long time. Why hadn’t you known about him until now?  
You hid your concern and confusion and joined the lot for dinner. Bobby wasn’t very tall, but you were still the smallest one there. It normally didn’t bother you. You were still a capable hunter- on the rare occasion that Bobby let you hunt- and the boys respected you. At least, you thought they did. You weren’t sure sometimes. They liked to joke about your size a lot… Maybe they didn’t respect you. Maybe you were just a joke. The thought weighed down on you and you hardly ate your dinner. You stared down at your lap while the guys made small talk about this hunt and that. You eventually excused yourself, unable to suppress the feeling of hurt and betrayal any longer. You practically ran to your room and collapsed on your bed, making sure to close the door behind you.  
About an hour later, a knock came on your door.  
“Dad, I’m not hungry,” you lied, not wanting to be bothered.  
“It’s Garth,” a gentle voice said from the other side. “Can I come in?”  
You let out a sigh and sat up. “Yeah, I guess.”  
The door opened and the tall man slipped inside, closing it behind him. “Are you alright? You looked kind of upset earlier.”  
“I’m fine,” you lied again. “Just a bad day.”  
He frowned and sat on the edge of your bed. “You seemed alright earlier when we got here.”  
You looked into his sparkling eyes and your walls broke. Your face contorted in sadness and anger and tears threatened to spill over your eyes. “I just… I want to be taken seriously. I know I’m small, but I’m still a good hunter. And a good driver, and a good cook… I can do almost everything you giants can. But Sam and Dean… I don’t think they see that. They’re always making jokes at my expense. At first I thought it was just them acting like big brothers, but lately… It feels personal, like I’m just a big joke to them.”  
His heart broke and he scooted closer, wrapping his arms around you. “I haven’t known you as long as they have, but I don’t think you’re a joke. I think you’re cute. The world needs more girls like you. I’m sure they don’t say those things to hurt you. They just think they’re funnier than they actually are.”  
You accepted his warm embrace and curled into his chest, your hands fisting in his shirt as you soaked it with tears. “I just… I’ve kept it in for so long… I try not to let them get to me, I try to joke along with them… but I can’t!”  
He nodded, resting his head on yours. His hand gently rubbed up and down against your back. He shifted, pulling you closer and onto his lap. You curled tighter against him, your sobs quieting down to light sniffles.  
“I’m sorry,” you murmured, sitting up and wiping your eyes. “This is probably the worst impression I could make. I look like a big baby.”  
“No,” he replied, shaking his head. He reached a hand up to brush some hair out of your eyes before it settled on your cheek. “You look like a girl who needs more love than she’s getting. Maybe you just need a break from Sam and Dean. You know, while they’re hunting, you and I could hang out. We could go out for lunch.”  
You wished he meant it as a date. “Aren’t you hunting with them?”  
“Oh, they don’t need me. Bobby just wanted to get rid of me. They won’t mind my absence.”  
You looked at him, your eyes still shining with tears. You leaned into his touch, and you briefly wondered how you had gone so long without it. You saw him lean in, and you saw his eyes sliding closed. Part of you wanted to pull away under the logic that you’d just met him. But the stronger part of you was leaning in too. You closed the gap and pressed your lips to his, and a soft sigh escaped your nose. It felt right, being in his arms. You slid your hands around his neck, pulling him closer. His hand abandoned your face to rest on your hip as his other arm secured around your waist. Something about his kiss made you desperately not want to pull away.  
A knock on the door caused you to jump in surprise. Before you could answer, a voice called, “(y/n)? It’s Dean. I wanted to apologize.”  
“What for?” you called back, slightly out of breath from the kiss.  
“For earlier,” he replied. “Bobby told us that you’re really sensitive about your height. We’re really sorry. We didn’t know.”  
Garth smiled knowingly at you and you settled against his chest. “It’s gine,” you called back. “I’m alright.”  
You could faintly hear him snicker on the otherside and you wondered if he knew Garth was in there with you. “Yeah, okay,” he replied. “Tell us next time we say something stupid, okay?”  
“Sure,” you agreed, glad when you heard his footsteps retreating.  
“Will Bobby get mad if I stay with you tonight?” Garth asked sweetly.  
“Maybe,” you countered with a shrug. You left his lap and moved to lie down on your bed, looking up at him. “But right now I don’t care.”  
He smiled and lied beside you, pulling you into his arms. His chest was your pillow and you fell to sleep within minutes, warmed by the sound of his heartbeat.


	41. Dean - Puppy Kisses

**Puppy Kisses**  
Request for Katelyn  
“Based on 9.5 when Dean can communicate with dogs. He acts like a dog and gives the reader a funny look like he thinks she’s attractive. She confronts him about it.”

You let out a giggle as Dean rapidly scratched himself behind the ear for the umpteenth time. The dog communication spell that he had cast in order to find out what killed Colonel’s owner was having some very amusing side effects. Colonel found it entertaining as well, watching a human play fetch without meaning to.  
“Stop laughing at me,” the hunter whined, letting out a whimpery sound. You only giggled more and Sam followed suit.  
“We have to get through this case pronto,” Dean stated with a stern expression.  
“The spell is time-sensitive,” Sam replied. “Solving the case won’t terminate the effects.”  
The older brother let out a groan and the German shepherd barked. You wondered if they were communicating or if the dog was just laughing at Dean’s humiliation.

You let out a contented noise as warm water cascaded down your body, soaking your hair and dripping off of your lifted arms. You scrubbed the shampoo into your dirty locks, effectively washing away the blood and grime and whatever else had gotten stuck in there during the last couple of hunts. You hadn’t had a shower in a few days – you were desperate. You couldn’t very well play FBI when you were covered in filth.  
“(y/n)!” Dean called from outside the bathroom. “Come on. We have a lead!”  
“Five minutes!” you called back, rinsing the soap from your hair and skin and turning off the water. You poked your hand out from the curtain and grasped a cheap white towel from the rack, wrapping it around your torso. Your sopping hair dribbled water down your back, and just as you were about to remove your towel to wrap it around your head, the bathroom door opened.  
You froze in surprise but let out a breath of relief when your pitbull terrier (pet/n) came rushing in. How had she opened the door? You mused that you must not have closed it all the way, or maybe this motel was just poorly constructed.  
You unwrapped your towel and began drying various parts of your body, beginning with your torso. You rubbed the towel across your skin, thinking about nothing until someone cleared their throat. Your head shot up and your expression switched to “deer in the headlights” as you saw Dean standing in the doorway, a blush on his cheeks as he tried desperately to look away. Your towel was clutched in your hand, holding it in front of your body like a small curtain. Colonel came rushing in as well, and he stopped short when he saw (pet/n) standing beside you. He tilted his head and stared at her, and you saw Dean do the same to you. What kind of dog communication was this?  
A small grin formed on Dean’s lips as he looked at you. His gaze travelled up your body and his smile dropped when he reached your terrified expression. His blush deepened and he quickly excused himself, dragging Colonel out of the bathroom with him. Thankfully, he shut the door behind him.  
You emerged from the bathroom about fifteen minutes later, dressed in clean clothes with your hair brushed and pulled back into a braid. Looking around the motel room, you noticed you were missing one man and one dog.  
“Where’s Dean and Colonel?” you asked Sam.  
“Went for a walk,” the moose replied.  
“I thought he was in a hurry to check out the lead,” you countered, quirking a brow in confusion.  
Sam chuckled. “He left pretty flustered. How much did he see?”  
Heat burned your cheeks. “Not too much. More than I’d like.”  
He scoffed. “That’s a lie. You want him to have a reason to see you naked.”  
“Thanks for putting it that way, Sam,” you replied pointedly.  
“You know what I mean,” he reasoned softly. “I know how you feel about him.”  
“And you know how pointless those feelings are,” you sighed, sitting on one of the beds. “He prefers one night stands with pretty bar chicks. He wouldn’t be interested in me.”  
Sam eyed you knowingly, but you were staring down at your lap. “I don’t know,” he countered. “I think there’s a chance.”

“ _You like her, don’t you_?” the Colonel barked as Dean sat on a park bench.  
“Yeah,” the hunter sighed, resting his head in his hands. “What the Hell am I going to do? Things are awkward now. She probably doesn’t want to see me again.”  
“ _Talk to her, idiot_ ,” the dog replied, lying down at Dean’s feet. “ _You won’t get anywhere moping around_.”  
“How do you know so much? You’re a dog.”  
“ _I’ve seen a lot of you humans try and fail at romance. I’ve learned a few things from the girls my owner tried to pick up_.”  
“Oh, yeah? Like what?”  
“ _For one thing, ignoring a problem only makes it worse. That makes them mad, or it makes them think you’re not interested. If you like her, you gotta make a move_.”  
Dean blew out a breath and looked up at the sky. Was the German shepherd right? Did Dean have a chance, and should he take it?  
Yes, he should, he decided as he stood from the bench. Colonel barked happily, knowing the hunter’s decision.  
“ _Hey_ ,” the dog added as they began walking back to the motel. “ _Put in a good word for me with the pitbull_.”

You looked up when the motel room door opened, but you quickly averted your gaze when you saw Dean walk in. You stared awkwardly at your lap, and Sam suddenly had somewhere else to be, leaving the two of you alone.  
“Hey,” Dean greeted. “Can we talk?”  
“Yeah,” you replied reluctantly, watching as he sat beside you.  
“I didn’t mean to walk in on you earlier,” he said. “The door was open so I thought you were done…”  
“It’s fine,” you replied quickly, not wanting to relive the moment.  
“I wish… that it had been under different circumstances.”  
You looked up at him. “Under what circumstances would you have wanted to walk in on me getting out of the shower?”  
His eyes were soft and honest as he looked at you. “Under the circumstances that we were dating and it would have been okay.”  
You felt heat rising to your cheeks and you looked back down at your lap. “You like those circumstances?”  
“Very much so,” he replied. “Actually… I wanted to make those our circumstances.”  
You finally met his gaze. “Is that a weird way of asking me out?”  
He laughed and nodded softly. “Yeah, it is. (y/n), will you be my girlfriend?”  
You couldn’t stop yourself. You leaned forward and pressed your lips to his. He needed no time to recover, holding you close and returning the kiss passionately. You could hear your dogs barking happily in the background as you shifted so that you were seated on his lap, his arms wrapped around your waist.  
“ _See_?” the Colonel barked. “ _I told you making a move would work_.”  
“That reminds me,” Dean said, breaking the kiss. “What kind of shot does Colonel have with (pet/n)?”  
You let out a laugh and looked at the two dogs sitting together on the floor. Colonel was grooming (pet/n)’s head, and her eyes were closed in contentment.  
“I’d say a very good chance,” you giggled, returning your lips to Dean’s for some puppy kisses of your own.


	42. Sam - Baby Daddy

**Baby Daddy**  
Request for Butterfly  
A/N: I try not to use any names because it’s a reader insert, so I wasn’t going to here, but I remembered there was an Avengers one I did where the babies were named Dean and Samantha, so if that counted then so did this.  
“Sam x reader. reader is bobby s daughter. She and Dean have a 6 year old son named Mattew but they are not a couple .”

You stood before the stove, stirring the spaghetti sauce that you had simmering in a saucepan. You smiled when you heard the familiar rumble of Dean’s Impala pulling into the gravel driveway. The boys had just finished a hunt and were going to spend a few days with you and your dad, Bobby. Though you had quite a history with the older brother- the proof of which was currently coloring at the dining room table- you enjoyed their company.  
You used to hunt. You hunted with the boys, in fact. The three of you had been a team, with the occasional visit from your favorite angel. You didn’t always get along, but you could set aside your differences and work together to take down a tulpa or a djinn or whatever else came your way.  
Then along came a drunken one night stand with Dean that left you pregnant and scared. You certainly couldn’t hunt anymore. It was dangerous enough risking your life for the greater good – you couldn’t put your child in constant danger. You quickly decided to move back home with Bobby and give up hunting. You still helped out now and then, doing research when the boys called.  
Dean tried to be there. He had enough morality to know that running out on a woman after getting her pregnant was not okay. He constantly called to check on you, asking if he could bring anything by to make you feel better. You honestly didn’t want him involved. You two weren’t a couple, and you never had been. It had been one little mistake and it had changed your life forever. You didn’t sever all ties with the Winchesters. You called to say hi and offer assistance. But you didn’t want Dean’s help with the baby. You wouldn’t keep your son from his father, so you never denied Dean visitation, but you were perfectly content being a single parent with occasional help from your dad.  
If you were honest with yourself, you were developing a crush on the younger Winchester. He was sweeter and softer, more hesitant to kill the more humanized monsters instead of just slicing and dicing. You appreciated his merciful nature, though you understood that Dean was raised to be a hardened hunter.

Shortly before dinner, you were in the kitchen making final preparations. Just as you grasped the pan of garlic bread from the oven, your fingers slipped and the pan fell through the air. Before it hit the ground and all your hard work went to waste, a tan hand reached out and caught it, setting it gently on the counter. You turned to see Sam standing beside you and offered him a soft smile.  
“We should talk,” he said softly, watching as you stirred the spaghetti sauce.  
Having a hunch that he wanted to talk about the same thing you did, you nodded. “We should.”  
“I like you, (y/n),” he said simply, glancing to the doorway to ensure that Dean was out of earshot.  
“I like you too,” you replied, not looking at him.  
“I don’t want to intrude on you and Matt,” he continued. “But I think we could work. I want to give it a shot.”  
“So do I,” you agreed, finally looking at him. “Matt really likes you. I don’t think he’ll mind… I just don’t know about Dean.”  
Sam let out a sigh, resting a large, warm hand on your cheek. You leaned into his touch and smiled softly. He leaned down, bending slightly to accommodate the height difference. You stood on your toes and met him in the middle, your lips meeting in the middle. Before you could get too into it, a soft voice called, “Mommy?”  
You broke apart to see Matt standing a few feet away, tilting his head at you two inquisitively.  
“Are you hungry?” you asked him, stepping away from Sam and pulling Matt into a hug.   
“What’s for dinner?” he asked sweetly, looking up at you.  
“Spaghetti,” you replied, giggling when his eyes lit up like stars.  
“Spaghetti!” he cried excitedly, rushing into the dining room and claiming his favorite chair at the table. You followed, carrying a bowl of noodles and a pan of sauce. Sam trailed behind you with the pan of garlic bread. Dean and Bobby joined you at the table, but you missed the glare that Dean was sending his brother as you all sat down to eat. Noodles, sauce, and bread were passed around, and Matt dug in immediately.  
“How’ve you been, Matt?” Dean asked kindly, looking at his son.  
Matt, instead, looked at Sam. “Uncle Sam is my new Daddy.”  
Everything stopped. Dean stared, Sam choked on noodles, you let out a noise of surprise, and Bobby glanced rapidly between the four of you.  
“What?” Dean replied, narrowing his gaze and lowering his voice. Matt’s brows furrowed in worry and he glanced at you for help.  
“Dean-“  
“How long have you been planning to replace me?” Dean demanded, looking at you and Sam. “Is this why you didn’t want me to be part of his life? So Sam could be there instead?”  
“Dean, stop,” you pleaded.  
“It just happened,” Sam explained. “No one is trying to replace you.”  
“Uncle Sam and Mommy were kissing,” Matt recalled, trying to help.  
Bobby’s brows raised and Dean’s glare intensified.  
“Dean,” you sighed, “I love Sam. It has nothing to do with you and me or Matt. I’ve always had feelings for Sam but I never acted on them. Matt caught us trying to work it out.”  
“So you told me repeatedly that you didn’t want my help with my own child, and now you’re hooking up with my own brother? What kind of crap is that, (y/n)? Do you know how trashy that sounds? Do you even want me around at all?”  
“Dean, stop,” you begged, glancing at Matt who’s eyes were widening as Dean’s anger rose.  
“Dad,” Matt called softly, catching Dean’s attention. He then looked at Sam. “Daddy.”  
Dean looked at his son and then his brother, and his heart broke. He saw now that it was Matt’s decision, not yours. He gritted his teeth and lowered his gaze, standing abruptly.  
“Thanks for dinner, Bobby,” he said curtly, pushing back his chair and removing himself from the table. He stormed outside and the roar of the Impala could be heard before the sound of tires rolling across gravel.  
Dean was leaving.

After dinner, you stood in the kitchen, doing the dishes to keep yourself busy. Matt was in the living room watching cartoons with Bobby, and Sam was drying and putting away the dishes as you washed them.  
“I’m sorry,” he began softly, reaching up without effort to house a plate.  
“It’s fine,” you replied with a sigh, holding a soapy glass under the running water. “You didn’t do anything. I didn’t prepare anyone for the situation. I wasn’t prepared myself.”  
“I’m not trying to replace Dean,” he insisted, looking at you. “I’m honored that Matt sees me that way, but I would never intrude intentionally.”  
“I know,” you nodded, pausing and resting your hands on the sink. “But I understand why he said what he did. You’ve spent more time with him than Dean has. He trusts you. He loves you. Dean… Dean tries. He really does. But you’ve been more of a dad to Matt than Dean has.”  
Sam set his drying towel aside and gently took your face in his hands. You looked up at him, your own soapy limbs gripping the edge of the sink. He leaned down, softly brushing his lips over yours. You returned the gesture with a soft sigh, closing your eyes and leaning into him.  
“I’ll always be here for you,” he whispered against your lips.  
“I know,” you replied softly, kissing him again. You didn’t know what to do about Dean, but you knew you wanted to do it with Sam by your side.


	43. Castiel - Lips of an Angel

**Lips of an Angel**  
Request for BetterLeftAlone  
“Can I request one with Sam and Dean are wondering what's up with Castiel since he's been distant and they find out that he fell in love with a girl.” 

“What the Hell is up with Cas?” Dean wondered as he sat down with Sam, stuffing a burger into his mouth.  
“What do you mean?” Sam countered, sticking a fork into his salad.  
“He’s hardly been around,” the older brother noted. “The last time he was hardly around, there was a war going on in Heaven. Do you think something’s up?”  
The younger shrugged. “Maybe. Call for him.”  
“Cas!” Dean shouted, and before too long, a flutter of wings was heard.  
“What?” Cas replied softly, more dejectedly than he usually sounded.  
“Where have you been, man?” Dean asked, standing.  
“What do you mean?” the angel replied.  
“You’ve been gone for months. You don’t respond to anyone. What’s going on with you?”  
A blush stained Cas’s cheeks, and it didn’t go unnoticed by the brothers. “Nothing, Dean. Nothing’s happened. I’ve just been busy.”  
“Bull,” the hunter replied.  
“What is it, Cas?” Sam inquired in a more gentle tone. “Seriously, you can talk to us.”  
The angel looked at his shoes, his fingers fidgeting with the hem of his sleeves. “I… I found love…”  
“Love?” Dean repeated. “Love where?”  
“I met a girl…”  
“Who?” Dean inquired.  
“Do we know her?” Sam wondered.  
Cas shook his head. “She’s a human. A hunter, actually, but I don’t think you guys have met.”  
“What’s she like?” the taller brother asked.  
Cas’s cheeks burned. “She’s wonderful. She’s beautiful. She has (h/l) (h/c) hair and sparkling (e/c) eyes. Her voice is like music and her laugh… I’ve never felt so at peace as I do when I’m with her.”  
Dean rolled his eyes at the sappy words spilling from the angel’s mouth, but Sam smiled softly in understanding.  
“What happened?” he asked. “Did you have a fight?”  
Cas nodded with a sigh, sitting in a chair. “You remember when I thought I was God?”  
The boys nodded.  
“She didn’t like that. At first she was understanding, telling me that she loved me no matter what, but as I got worse… she pulled away. She told me she couldn’t handle me acting like God, and that she didn’t think we should be together anymore. I, of course, made it worse. Then I left to play God to everyone else. I haven’t seen her since.”  
“That was two years ago,” Dean recalled. “Why didn’t you go back after your reign of terror was over?”  
“I didn’t think she’d want to see me,” Cas said, and sorrow could be heard in his voice. “I don’t think she ever will. I hurt her. I deserve to be alone now.”  
Before the boys could argue, the angel’s seat was empty.  
Sam sighed. “We should find her.”  
Dean nodded. “I’ve never seen Cas so upset. That girl meant a lot to him.”  
The younger brother groaned. “How are we going to find her? We don’t even know her name.”  
“He has a room here,” Dean replied, looking down the hallway of the bunker towards the guest rooms. “We could search there; see if there are any clues. Maybe a photo or her name written somewhere.”  
Sam nodded and stood, Dean following. They headed down the hall to raid Cas’s room.

You smiled as you sat down at the kitchen table beside your daughter, (g/n). She grinned at the plate of pancakes that you’d set on the table in front of her, stabbing one of the cut pieces with her fork. You doused them in maple syrup and powdered sugar and made sure she had a glass of milk before letting her dig in. You munched on a piece of bacon, lost in your thoughts until there was a knock on the door. Kissing (g/n)’s forehead, you stood and padded over.  
You opened it with a friendly, “Hello?”  
Two men greeted you. One was obscenely tall, with shaggy brown hair and a soft expression. The other was shorter, with short spiky hair and pointed eyes.  
“Can I help you?” you asked, confused. Were they from child services? What would they want with you? They were dressed very casual if they were with the government… Blue jeans and plaid button-ups. Who were they?  
“(y/n) (l/n)?” the shorter one asked.  
“Yes,” you agreed. “Who are you?”  
The taller one offered a hand and a friendly smile. “Sam and Dean Winchester. We’re friends of Castiel.”  
Your eyes widened and your heart dropped. Castiel… “What do you want?” you inquired, your expression hard and your voice cold.  
The tall one winced at your change in tone. “He’s been really upset lately, and we think it has something to do with you?”  
“He’s upset?” you repeated, offended. “He runs away from me and our unborn child so he can play God to the world, and he’s upset?”  
The shorter one’s eyes widened. “Unborn child?”  
“You had a child together?” Sam clarified.  
You nodded with a sigh and stood back, opening the door. “You might as well come in.”  
The boys entered your apartment and quickly saw the little girl sitting at the table.  
“This is (g/n),” you introduced. “Half human, half angel.”  
“Does Cas know?” Dean asked, staring at your daughter in awe of the similarities between her and the angel.  
You shook your head. “The day I was going to tell him I was pregnant was the day he told me he was God and then took off.”  
The boys shared a look before looking back at you.  
“You should see him,” Sam said gently. “He deserves to know.”  
“I agree,” you replied softly. “But I don’t want to see him if he’s still playing God.”  
“He’s not,” the tall one insisted. “He’s been cleaned of that. He actually really misses you, (y/n). He’s worried that you don’t want to see him.”  
“Even if it didn’t work out between us, I would want him around for her,” you said, looking at your daughter. “She deserves to know her father.”  
“Cas!” Dean yelled, looking at the ceiling. Before too long, a rush of wind was heard and the man you’d fallen in love with, trenchcoat and all, was standing in your living room.  
“Dean, I told you I don’t- (y/n)?”  
“Hi, Cas.”  
The angel’s expression was unreadable. “Why did you two bring me here? What’s this a-“ He then noticed a little girl with eyes that bore great resemblance to his own. “Who’s this?”  
You picked her up and sauntered closer to Cas, close enough for your daughter to reach out to him. “This is (g/n); our daughter.”  
Cas stared at you in awe. “We have a daughter?”  
The boys quietly sneaked out the door, leaving the three of you alone.  
You nodded. “The day you left, I found out I was pregnant. I was going to tell you, and then you went off about God and the people needing a leader, and then you left.”  
“Why did you never tell me?”  
“I was hurt, Cas. Hurt and alone… I felt abandoned. I thought that whatever angel business you were doing, you thought was more important than me… I didn’t think you’d want to come back, even for her.”  
His warm arms wrapped around you, pulling you to his chest. You buried your face in his neck, but you soon had to part when (g/n) began wiggling in your arms. She reached out to Cas with a smile on her lips, wanting to be held. Cas smiled back unsurely, taking her from your arms and holding her to his chest.  
“She likes you,” you said with a soft smile.  
“Can I stay?” he asked you, one hand reaching up to cup your cheek.  
“You want to stay?” you breathed.  
He nodded and leaned forward, pressing his lips to yours. You melted against him, realizing just how much you’d missed him.  
“You’re never allowed to leave again.”  
He chuckled. “I don’t plan to.”


	44. Save Me

**Save Me**  
Request for Livi  
A/N: I included Mary’s deal with Azazel because it’s actually important to the story (Yellow Eyes didn’t just kill for no reason) and because you are supposed to be Mary.  
“May I request one where the reader is Sam and deans mom and she has to protect them from a demon?”

Being a reformed hunter with a husband and two sons had its ups and downs. You knew how to protect your family from every creature in the world, but you never knew when one would strike. It could be as obvious as a werewolf in the woods or as innocent as a person on the street. There was no real way of knowing at a glance who was dangerous and who wasn’t.  
You’d almost lost your husband, John, plenty of times, thanks to the creatures that went bump in the night. They had tried to kill the both of you more times than you cared to recall, and many of them nearly succeeded. You were kidnapped a couple of months back, shortly after your second son, Sam, was born. A group of demons had caught you walking to your car in the dimly lit parking lot and took the opportunity to knock you unconscious and drag you away. Upon waking up, you demanded to know who they were, where you were, and why they had taken you. They had initially laughed in your face, then decided that there wasn’t too big a disadvantage to explaining their plan.  
“ _Your boys are special_ ,” one of them had said.  
“ _When the time comes, this world will erupt into chaos, and your boys will have to pick a side_ ,” the other added.  
You had no idea what that meant, but you were scared. The demons had some dark and twisted plan for your sons, and you knew you had to keep them safe at all costs.  
When John finally rescued you, thanks to what you had taught him about demons, you were hysterical. You frantically told him what the demons told you, but he seemed much less bothered. He shrugged and replied that they were just trying to get under your skin. You had let out a soft sigh in disappointment but didn’t push the matter. You knew John loved the boys, and you knew that he didn’t have the same history with demons that you did. He didn’t understand how much danger you were all in.

Sam was almost six months old, and that terrified you. You kept your feelings from John and Dean, unable to explain your concern and knowing that John wouldn’t understand anyway. When the two of you were young, some years before you had Dean, you’d almost lost John to a yellow-eyed demon. He’d told you that your son would be special, and that he was the cause. He wanted your permission, but he wouldn’t tell you what for. You had refused at first, but as John lied dying in your arms, you realized you didn’t have much of a choice. You weren’t going to have a son if the love of your life died.  
You hesitantly agreed, and the disgusting man possessed by a demon smashed his lips to yours. You scoffed in offense and hastily wiped your mouth while he laughed.  
“ _On the night he turns six months old, don’t interrupt me_ ,” the demon had said. “ _If you leave me alone, I’ll leave you alone. If you interrupt me, you’ll die._ ”  
That weighed on you every day as Sam’s six month mark edged closer. You knew you weren’t supposed to interrupt, but interrupt what? What was going to happen that night that you had to stay away from? John hadn’t received the warning; what if he interrupted whatever it was? Was he a goner then?  
The night finally arrived, and you couldn’t sleep. You lied in bed next to a soundly sleeping John, waiting for time to pass so it could be morning again. Glancing over at the clock, you sighed upon realizing that it had only been two minutes since you last looked at it.  
You could hear someone rummaging around in Sam’s nursery, and the faint sounds of Sam waking up. Your heart pounded in your ears as you lied still, willing yourself not to get up and check on him. You always checked on him. You never let him lie there and cry like the parenting books told you to. You didn’t have it in you.  
Sam made a louder sound and John miraculously awoke from his slumber. Waking your husband was like waking the dead – so how could Sam’s soft whimpers have woken him?  
Before you could advise him against it, John was out of bed, shuffling down the hall to Sam’s room. You sat up, your heart racing, your eyes glued to the doorway, waiting for some kind of response. You could barely hear John cooing over Sam, trying to lull him back to sleep. You almost let out a sigh of relief at the lack of danger.  
Then you heard John yelp in surprise, following by a gruff cry of “Stay away from my son!”  
You jumped out of bed, no longer able to wait on the sidelines. You rushed into Sam’s room and gasped at the black figure looming over your baby. John was pressed to the wall by the monster’s power, and you stood frozen in the doorway.  
“I told you not to interrupt,” a dark voice said, and the figure continued standing by Sam’s crib. He seemed to focus on Sam now, and he let go of his hold on John.  
“Get Dean out of here,” your husband instructed. You nodded, and after another moment of frozen fear, you turned on your heel and ran to Dean’s room.  
He was confused when you shook him awake and lifted him into your arms. You shushed his concerns and ran out of the house, keeping him close as you stood in the yard. There was a faint light glowing in Sam’s room and tears welled up in your eyes as you wondered what was going on.  
After a few moments of deafening silence, John emerged from the house with Sam in his arms. Just as they crossed the threshold, the house erupted into flames. It began in Sam’s room, and quickly spread to the rest of the house.  
“It’s all over,” John promised, wrapping one arm around you while the other cradled Sam to his chest.  
You leaned against your husband, still holding Dean in your arms. You nodded stiffly as tears poured freely down your cheeks.  
Your boys were safe.


	45. Sam - She's a Maneater

**She’s a Maneater**  
Request for Butterfly  
A/N: It’s not really romantic because the plot was more dramatic.  
I used some of the details from the succubi story I did for Avengers. Completely different plot, but I kept the killing method. I’m also totally making up the details, so no arguing.  
“Succubus!reader x sam   
A ten men die in a small town . Boys don't know what killed them.”

“Come on, sweet cheeks,” the drunkard insisted, reaching a hand across the bar in an attempt to grab your arm. You stepped back, out of his reach, and continued wiping down the counter.  
“Not a chance,” you replied with a grimace, stepping further away. He was a regular at the bar. He always arrived partially drunk and continued to get worse as the night progressed. You warned your coworkers to keep an eye on him, but it was just you tonight.  
His face contorted into anger. “I don’t like being rejected.”  
“Too bad,” you countered, not noticing as he stood up and walked closer to you. He reached out and grabbed your arm, yanking you forward until your torso hit the counter. You gasped and tried to pull your arm back, but his grip was strong. He raised his other hand, ready to bring it down on your face for talking back, but someone pulled him away from you.   
“She said no,” a tall man growled, punching the drunkard square in the nose. He stumbled away, clutching his face, while the tall man took his seat at the bar.  
“Whatever you want, on the house,” you told him, dragging a wet rag across the counter.  
He chuckled softly. “That’s kind of you.”  
“You saved me just now,” you returned.  
His smile softened as he looked at you. Something about you attracted to him; lured him in and made him never want to turn away. “I saw a pretty girl in distress. You didn’t deserve to be manhandled like that.”  
A soft blush crossed your cheeks as you tried to remind yourself that he was only attracted to you by force. “Thanks.”

“Hey, check this out,” Dean said as his eyes skimmed over the front page of the next day’s newspaper.  
Sam raised a brow in a questioning manner, a toothbrush sticking out between his lips.  
“A local creep was found dead in the streets late last night,” Dean summarized, handing the paper to Sam. The younger brother looked it over with one hand, finishing his current task with the other.   
After rinsing out his mouth, he commented, “I saw this guy at the bar last night.”  
Dean looked at him in surprise. “You did?”  
Sam nodded. “He was hitting on the bartender; got really offended when she shrugged him off.”  
“Let me guess,” the older brother smirked. “You played the hero and told the guy to shove off, effectively rescuing the pretty bartender?”  
A light blush dusted Sam’s cheeks. “Shut up. I wonder who killed him. I just saw him alive and wasted last night.”  
“Must not have lasted long after he left the bar,” Dean mused. “It seems to be a theme in this town. He’s the tenth creepy drunk to show up dead in the last week. Sounds like someone is playing vigilante here.”

After breakfast, the boys headed back to your bar. You were working again, having gotten called in when your usual daytime worker called in sick.   
“Hey, you,” you greeted with a friendly smile, picking up some broken glass from the night before.  
“Hey,” Sam returned. “So we read about that guy from last night. I guess he died in the streets?”  
You stiffened for a moment and hoped they didn’t notice. “I heard about that. Wonder what happened to him.”  
The boys shared a look.  
“Yeah, I wonder,” Dean repeated.  
You furrowed your brows. “If you’ve come here to accuse me of attacking some man in the street-“  
“A man who had previously attacked you a couple hours beforehand,” Dean reminded.  
“I was still working when he was killed,” you defended. “The cops searched this bar high and low. I was one of the first people they questioned, and I had half a bar full of patrons to back me up.”  
“The paper also said that he was the tenth man found dead in the last week,” Sam continued, “and that all of the men killed were creeps.”  
“So I’ve heard,” you replied. “So what? Someone in this town decided to take out the creeps that like to prey on women. I don’t see the problem.”  
“People are dying,” Dean said. “That’s the problem. And I think you know more than you’re letting on.”  
You looked between the two of them and let out a sigh. “Fine. I… I know who killed the man last night.”  
They waited silently for you to continue.  
“My roommate… She’s a succubus.”  
Dean raised a brow. “A succubus?”  
You nodded. “Human men are hopelessly attracted to them; they can’t help it. Succubi lure people in. They’re partially human, so they can hide their succubus features and if they have a conscience, they can choose not to kill the men they attract. My roommate doesn’t really have that control.”  
Sam stared at you, realizing why he had been so attracted to you. But there was more to it. He still didn’t want to kill you. “How do you stop one?”  
“A special blade,” you replied. “I have one. It’s meant only for killing succubi, and it will only kill the succubus inside them. Any part of them that’s human will remain alive.”  
“You know we have to kill your roommate?” Sam clarified. He hated the defeated look in your eyes, but it had to be done.  
You sighed and nodded. “I know.”

You led them to your apartment, knowing your roommate was home. She was in her room, asleep, having recently gotten off work. You waited in the living room while the guys went in. You didn’t really want to watch.  
“I’m sure this is hard for you,” Sam said, resting a hand on your shoulder. You closed your eyes and faced the ground.  
“It had to be done,” you reasoned. “I tried talking to her before about the killing. She didn’t seem to care. I knew she had to be stopped… I just didn’t have the heart to do it myself.”  
Dean watched the two of you carefully. Sometimes, he hated how kind Sam was to the monsters they had to kill. He hated when the creatures of the night were human. It was much easier to gank the bad guy when he wasn’t begging for his life.  
“We should head back to the motel,” the older brother said.  
“Do you guys want to stay here tonight?” you offered. “My couch is comfier than a hotel bed, and I don’t really want to be alone right now.”  
They shared a look and you deflated. They were going to say no.  
“Thanks,” Sam smiled, setting his bag down. “We’d love to.”  
Dean seemed on the fence about it, but agreed nonetheless.

Sam had fallen asleep a couple of hours ago, but it wouldn’t come so easy to you. You sat up on the living room floor, watching the rise and fall of his chest. You couldn’t get over your roommate’s death, and lying about what you were was eating you alive.   
“Can’t sleep?” a deep voice, gruff from sleep, called from behind you. You turned to see Dean shuffling sleepily out of the bathroom, heading into the kitchen.  
“Too much on my mind,” you explained, getting up to follow him. “You?”  
Dean’s gaze fell over Sam’s sleeping form. “He gets so attached, you know? Killing monsters that look and act human is hard on him.”  
You sat beside him at the kitchen table. “Do you come across that often? Humanized monsters?”  
He looked at you, meeting your soft gaze. Your skin glowed under the dim kitchen light, and Dean felt himself being drawn to you. He had a hunch about you, and knew that he should pull away and use your own blade against you, but all he could think about was kissing those perfect lips of yours.  
And that’s exactly what he did.  
You kissed him back, fueled by the succubus inside you. You placed your hands on his cheeks as your nails began to lengthen and sharpen, and the long tail currently protruding from beneath your robe was just out of reach of where his hands sat on your waist. You straddled his lap and had just begun feeding on his energy when you were roughly pulled away and thrown against the floor.  
“I knew it,” Sam growled, staring down at you. “You’re a succubus, too.”  
Sorrow and guilt flooded you and you looked down at your lap. “I’m sorry.”  
“Sorry for what?” Sam demanded. “Lying? Killing innocent men? Attacking my brother?”  
“All of it…”  
“Why do I feel weak?” Dean asked.  
“Succubi feed on the energy of the men they seduce,” Sam explained. “I read all about your kind. Men feel hopelessly attracted to them, and you use that attraction to seduce them. Once you kiss them, you begin feeding on their energy, draining them until there’s nothing left.”  
“I told you, we can’t always control it,” you defended, finally looking up at him. The hatred in his eyes burned your chest. You didn’t fight back as he roughly lifted you from the ground and sat you in a chair, holding you there.  
“Your roommate wasn’t the only one killing men, was she?” he accused.  
“No,” you admitted.  
“Why did you kill them?” His voice was softer now, as though he were simply curious.  
“I can control it as long as I don’t touch them,” you explained. “My roommate… She always got too close. Once a succubus gives into the attraction, it’s practically impossible to pull ourselves away from it. I… I get lonely. I try to stay away from them, I do, but sometimes… I give in. The worst part is that I know what I’m doing to them, and I still can’t pull away.”  
Sam stared at you, trying to remind himself that he was angry because you’d tried to kill his brother. But you looked so weak and helpless…   
“Is there anything you can do? A spell to suppress the succubus?” he asked. “You can’t even have a boyfriend, can you? Not one that you could get close to…”  
You shook your head. “No, I can’t. The only chance I have at a relationship is finding an incubus.”  
“Incubus?” Dean repeated.  
“Male succubus,” Sam replied.   
“There’s a spell that can suppress the succubus temporarily,” you recalled. “But I don’t know how to make it. I don’t even know how long it lasts.”  
“Maybe we can find it,” Sam offered. “I want to help you, (y/n).”  
You stared into his hazel eyes with a soft smile. “Thank you. You could have killed me when I attacked Dean… But now you’re trying to help me.”  
“That’s what he does,” Dean commented.  
Sam leaned in and pressed a kiss to your forehead. You stiffened under his touch, not wanting to get too close.  
“We’ll make the spell, okay?” he promised.  
You met his gaze and nodded. “Okay.”


	46. Sam - Let Me Be Your Ruler

**Let Me Be Your Ruler**  
Request for Butterfly  
A/N: With help from The Silver Iris.  
Not very romantic, because the plot is a bit darker.  
“Reader is a demon and becomes the Queen of Hell . People , vamps , werewolves etc. And angels are being killed . Angels and Crowley ask the boys to kill her but warn them mortals fall in love with her the moment the lay eyes on her.”

“Marry you?” Dean repeated, staring at you as though you’d turned into a giant reptile. “Why the hell would either of us do that?”  
You gave a noncommittal shrug. “It sounds fun. If you marry me, you’ll have more power than you can imagine.”  
“We don’t want power,” Sam argued. “We want to stop you.”  
You barked out a laugh. “Stop me? Oh, Sammy. No one can stop me.”

How did they get into this position? Marry the Queen of Hell or she’ll kill you? Neither one sounded very pleasant.   
Crowley had given up his pride and gone to the Winchesters for help.   
“She’s taken over everything, and she doesn’t care who she kills,” he told the boys in an effort to convince them.   
“She’s dethroned you?” Sam clarified incredulously. He didn’t think anyone besides Lucifer could have power over Crowley.  
The demon nodded miserably. “She’s more powerful than anything you’ve ever faced.”  
“You have to be careful,” Cas warned. “Mortal men fall in love with her the second they look at her. She’ll use that against you.”  
“Maybe there’s a spell or an amulet we can use against her,” Sam mused, digging out some lore books and flipping through them. “Here,” he said, reading the passage aloud. “It’s like a hex bag that you wear as a necklace. Put the right ingredients in it and we should be able to resist her.”  
Dean nodded. “Let’s get started.”

“Are you sure you can stop her?” Crowley asked for the umpteenth time as he leaned forward from the backseat of the Impala.  
“We’re going to find out,” Dean responded, slowing the car and pulling off to the side of the road.   
The demon let out an exasperated sigh. “You’re not going to be able to just wing it with her! You need a plan!”  
Sam held up the hex bag amulets he had made. “We have a plan.”  
“You can’t kill me,” you reminded them as they approached you apprehensively. “You can just watch as I take over everything you love and make it my own.”  
“We don’t let that happen,” Dean growled. You smirked and sauntered up to him, placing your hands on his chest. Most men would be on their knees by now, begging for mercy and a place in your kingdom.  
“You will do as I say,” you told him, pressing your chest to his. He simply stared at you, and you realized that your powers of persuasion were failing.  
“We’re stronger than most men,” Sam stated, standing by his brother. You let out a growl. No mortal could resist you!  
“That doesn’t matter,” you spat. “I will still be Queen of the world, and you will all bow before me.”  
“Surrender now(1),” Crowley warned, “or Moose and Squirrel will attack.”  
You let out a sadistic laugh. “Surrender? Please. I’ve worked my way up the chain of command and I’m at the top of the totem pole. I’m not giving up now. There’s nothing your boys can do to stop me.”  
While you were distracted by reveling in your success, Sam lunged at you, tackling you to the ground. It didn’t hurt you at all, but you mentally applauded his ability to catch you off guard. You recovered quickly, standing and shoving him away.  
“Stupid Winchesters,” you sighed dramatically. “I told you; you can’t stop me.”  
"I'm not so sure," Sam replied. He jumped at you again, reaching for something, anything. But you simply flung him across the ground, his face skidding across the hard dirt. As he flew, you noticed a peculiar necklace sticking out from his shirt.  
"Nice bling," you commented, sauntering up to him. "Where'd you get it? The gift shop down under?" You gripped it in your hand and plucked it from his neck, carelessly tossing it aside. "Try resisting me now, Winchester." You lifted his chin and looked straight into his eyes. He stared up at you in awe and you grinned.  
“Sammy!” Dean cried from the distance, running towards the both of you. You held out a hand, stopping him in his tracks.   
“I don’t think so, Dean,” you taunted, standing up straight and bringing Sam up with you. You could see the submission in his eyes as he stared at you, not even bothered by his brother screaming his name.  
“You let him go,” the older brother demanded.  
“No, I don’t think I will,” you shook your head. “That was a nice trick with the necklace, but he’s all mine now.”  
“Dean!” Crowley shouted, pulling the hunter aside. “We might have to let him go.”  
“Are you crazy?” Dean countered. “Let Sam go?”  
“I know you’re emotionally attached, Squirrel, but the only way she will even consider not ruling the world is if one of you marry her, and she’s got her eye on Moose.”  
Dean looked back at you, clutching the front of Sam’s shirt. He let out a sigh, knowing there wouldn’t be any love behind the marriage. It would be pure torture and a hunger for power.  
“It should be his choice,” he answered.  
“He’ll choose her,” Crowley reminded. “He can’t resist her anymore. He’ll choose her in a heartbeat.”  
The older brother sighed. “Fine.”  
“Do you surrender?” you asked with a mock sweetness, looking up at the boys.  
“If Sam agrees, we’ll leave you alone,” Dean said. “But you have to hold up your end of the deal.”  
“If you marry Moose, you give up on being the new God. You give Hell back to me, and you stop killing,” Crowley explained.  
You pretended to think about it. “I’m not getting very much, am I?”  
“You can have me,” Sam said, lovesick. “All of me.”  
Dean cringed. Crowley pretended to vomit.  
You shrugged. “Fine. Deal. Sam’s all mine, and Hell’s all yours.”  
“Good,” Crowley nodded.  
You grinned at Sam. “You know how demons seal deals, don’t you?”  
You placed both of your hands on his face, bringing him in for the most passionate kiss you’d ever given a client.

 

(1) “Or prepare to fight!”


	47. Cas - Until We Meet Again

**Until We Meet Again**  
Request for Courtney  
A/N: Co-written by The Silver Iris.  
SO DONE WITH THIS STORY. HAD TO REWRITE IT THREE TIMES.  
“Could I make a request??? If so I was thinking the reader is a waitress at a local diner thats been targeted by demons and she almost gets killed by them but is saved by team free will and she has a crush on Cas and they kiss, you can change it however you want to.”

You walked amongst the noisy people chattering away as you juggled plates and glasses. Working at the diner had its perks, but the stress could get overwhelming when you were tired. Children liked to scream their displeasure, creeps always looked at you the wrong way, and old ladies loved arguing with you over the very clear options on the menu.  
Once you had finished with all of your current tables, you made your way to the newest guests. There were three men; one was tall with shaggy hair, one with short hair and bright green eyes, and the last one… he looked interesting. He wore a long beige trench coat, and his eyes caught your attention like a fish hook.  
“Hello, my name is (Y/N) and I'll be your server today," you greeted with a half sincere smile. You were tired, but you had to keep up appearances. "Can I start you off with something to drink?"   
"I'll have a beer with a side of your hot-" he was cut off when he felt a sharp pain in his side. His gaze fell on the taller one, who was staring at him pointedly. He then turned back to you, "-fries. Hot fries."   
The tall one smirked in victory.  
You smirked and looked at the other two. "Anything for you two?"   
The long-haired one ordered a beer and the interesting one ordered water.  
You smiled. “I’ll get those right away for you guys.”  
The shorter one stared after you as you walked away, earning another elbow in the side.  
The tall one rolled his eyes. “We’re working, Dean.”  
“Yeah, yeah,” Dean grumbled. “Are you sure this is the place, Sam? I know it’s a small town and all, but it doesn’t look demonic.”  
“There are demons here,” the trench-coat-clad member confirmed. “I can sense them.”  
Sam nodded proudly.  
As you assembled the drink orders for your latest table, the front door flew open to reveal a group of strangers dressed like members of a biker gang.   
“Can I help you?” the host asked, standing before them. A young woman in the front grinned wickedly and waved her hand. The host went flying back against a wall, earning a flood of gasps from the patrons of the diner.   
“Told you,” Sam said, standing from the booth and approaching the newcomers with Dean and Cas in tow. You could only stare in fearful fascination as the three men approached the group of strangers, staring them down like they had a personal vendetta.  
“Why this town?” Dean demanded.  
The girl grinned again. “Because it’s fun.”  
Before you could run away, a strong arm wrapped around your neck, cutting off your air supply. You gasped desperately, but no relief came. You clawed at his arm, but soon stopped your struggling when you felt a blade pressing against your side.  
“Let. Her. Go,” the one in the trench coat ordered.  
The man holding you chuckled darkly. “Or what? You’ll smite me?”  
Your savior approached and held out a hand above you, assumingly touching your captor’s face. All you heard was a guttural scream before you were dropped to the ground, free from harm. You scrambled a few feet away to catch your breath before looking up at your savior. He stood over the man’s now dead body, his eyes burnt from their sockets. You stared in horror but felt no need to run. Something about the man in the trench coat drew you in and told you that he was safe.

“Thank you for saving me,” you murmured as you sat in the backseat of a ’67 Chevy Impala. After getting all of the patrons and remaining workers to safety, the man, whose name you learned was Castiel, insisted on taking you home. It was too far to walk, and your car had been destroyed when the demons, as you learned they were called, attacked the down, mutilating everything and everyone in their way.   
“You’re welcome,” Cas answered before either of the boys could. They shared a knowing look from the front seat, unbeknownst to you or Cas.   
“What’s your name?” Dean asked, looking at you through the rearview mirror.  
“(y/n),” you replied softly.  
“A beautiful name,” Cas said with an awkward smile. You swore you heard Sam cough to cover a laugh.  
When they arrived at your apartment, you were relieved to see that it remained intact. The demons hadn’t gotten to your neighborhood. You would have to find a new car and a new job, but that could wait a couple of days.   
Cas walked you to your porch, giving you some privacy away from Sam and Dean. You hesitated on even touching the door knob, knowing that the beautiful man who saved you would be gone once you were safely inside your apartment.   
You turned to face him, finding him standing much closer than you expected. You smiled up at him shyly.  
“I, uh… I hope you stay safe,” he offered lamely, not sure what to say to a beautiful girl he’d saved from demons.  
“You too,” you replied, resting your hands on his chest. “I assume the three of you do things like that every day?”  
He nodded, staring down at your hands. “I… I want to see you again. Preferably under better circumstances.”  
“I’d like that,” you murmured, taking a step closer. He rested a gentle hand on your cheek, tilting your head up. You stared into his baby blue eyes, standing on your toes to get a little bit closer. He leaned down and hesitantly touched his lips to yours as though he was unsure of himself. You wrapped your arms around his neck and deepened the kiss, closing your eyes.  
“Come back and see me,” you requested, looking up at him as you pulled away.  
He nodded. “I promise.”  
You smiled and pecked his lips once more before bidding him goodbye. He reluctantly pulled his hand from your face, turning to descend the steps of your porch and return to the Impala. You watched it drive away, offering the trio a wave before turning and heading back to your own life.


	48. Crowley - Queen of Hell

**Queen of Hell**  
Request for Jake Perez  
A/N: Beginning co-written by The Silver Iris.  
“Can I make a request for a Crowley x reader were the reader is and angel that Crowley captured but slowly starts yo fall in love with her? Please!”

"There's no point in struggling," a gruff, English voice told you. You momentarily ceased pulling at the restraints wrapped around your wrists. You had never been confined in a dark room before, failing at biting back a frightened whimper.   
"Don't whimper, either. I can restrain you further, and I don’t think you want that."   
You simply nodded, biting your lip to keep your fears at bay.  
Crowley couldn't help but feel sympathy towards your fearful eyes, the innocence in them shining through. He shook his head, reminding himself that he shouldn't feel any remorse for an angel, of all things. You were his largest enemy next to those bloody Winchesters, and he should have no reason to regret tying you up.  
"What do you want with me?" you inquired softly, refraining from eye contact. You kept your gaze on your lap, afraid of his expression. You could just picture the smug smirk on his lips, proud of his capture.  
"You’re bait, of course," he replied. "The Winchesters and their angel boyfriend are sure to come to the rescue sooner or later."  
“What makes you so sure?” you couldn’t help but ask. “I’m not their friend. They don’t care what happens to me. If you wanted bait, you should have kidnapped Castiel.”  
You felt bad ratting them out, but you felt it to be true. They would have been much more concerned about your rescue if you were the trench coat-clad angel Dean had grown fond of. But you weren’t. You had simply assisted them on a couple of hunts. You didn’t matter to them.  
The black lump of coal that was Crowley’s heart began to crumble as he looked at you. He could hear the tremor in your voice and suddenly wished to soothe it. He growled to himself and turned away, clenching his fists. Why? Why did he feel so… attached to you? You were an angel, and a simple one at that. You were right – you weren’t important. You weren’t Castiel, or even Gabriel or Balthazar. Why should he care about you?  
He turned back and saw the crestfallen expression on your face. You truly believed they wouldn’t come for you, and you truly believed he would hurt you until they did. He let out a sigh and stepped closer, kneeling down before you. You gasped at the close proximity and squeezed your eyes closed, not wanting to see the expression of what you assumed would be hatred on his face.  
Instead, he rested a hand on your cheek, and you opened your eyes in surprise. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him, even when he tilted your head up so that your eyes were level with his. You looked anywhere but his face, even closing your eyes again.  
“Look at me, darling,” he whispered.  
Darling? You thought in surprise. You hesitantly opened your eyes, instantly meeting his dark orbs. You were more surprised by the lack of hatred you saw in them.  
“I’m not going to hurt you,” he murmured, nudging your nose with his.  
“Why not?” you asked, worried about his plans for you.  
He let go of your face and stood, and you wondered if you offended him. Before you could say anything more, your hands fell to your sides, the rope that had previously bound them no longer constricting you. You rubbed your reddened skin as you looked up at him, confusion clear on your face.  
“You can’t leave, but I won’t leave you tied up like a slave,” he explained. “You’ll be my assistant until the Winchesters do what I want or I decide you’re no longer useful.”  
He turned on his heel to leave, snapping his fingers in your direction. “Come.”  
You hesitantly rose to your feet, stumbling over the first few steps. You’d been sitting on your knees on the cold, hard, concrete ground for longer than you could keep track of, so your feet needed some practice. You clasped your hands together as you fell into step beside him, following him out of the dungeon and up to his throne.

Over the next few weeks, you got to know the demon king and found that he wasn’t as cruel as his enemies believed. He had his heartless moments, disintegrating his lackeys without a second thought when they disobeyed him, but you also saw him when he was stressed and tired and wanting to be done with his troubles. You saw his softer side, the one that he hid from the world for fear that it looked like weakness. If you were honest, you were developing a soft spot for the demon. You would never voice that realization, of course, but you had thought about it too many times to deny it.  
“Is there anything else you need?” you asked softly, lingering in the doorway to his bedroom. All of his demons had been sent on errands and he was dressed in nothing but sweatpants, preparing to relax for a while. Demons didn’t need to sleep, but you had come to learn that when he had down time, Crowley liked to lie down in comfy clothing and pretend he was sleeping. Sometimes he would fall into a catnap, but he immediately awoke when someone called his name.  
You had already served him dinner, cleaned his room, and given him a massage. He was particularly fond of the last chore. Sometimes he let you use magic to do your chores, but cooking, cleaning, and Crowley’s personal care were to be done with your own two hands and elbow grease.  
“No, you can rest,” he replied, lying on his plush bed, covered in velvet blankets. You heard the exhaustion in his voice and felt the sudden urge to wrap him in a hug.  
“Sir?” you asked softly. “May I ask you something?”  
He raised a brow and looked at you. He hardly ever said no to you when you called him Sir.  
“What is it?”  
“Some of your demons… They’ve been asking me what your orders are, like I somehow hold power over them. I know that I don’t, of course. I would never pretend to have any power here. It’s just… some of them act like I do, and I was wondering why they’re willing to take orders from me.”  
Over your time in Hell, some of the demons had begun calling you “Miss” or “Ma’am” and either asked what Crowley’s orders were of them or what you would like them to do. You either repeated Crowley’s wishes or told them to go ask him, but their sudden sense of respect for you confused you to no end.  
He sat up and gestured for you to enter his room. You complied hesitantly – he never wanted you in his room when he was relaxing. Even more surprising, he patted a spot beside him on his bed, and didn’t start speaking until you sat down.  
“I told my demons to treat you with respect,” he explained.  
“Really?” you asked before you could stop yourself. “Why?”  
He chuckled softly, and you were glad you hadn’t upset him. “You’re important around here. I… I want to keep you around. You probably thought I was keeping you here as leverage, and originally I was… But lately, I’ve learned that I want you around, and I knew that if my demons ever treated you badly, you would want to leave. I can keep you here as long as I like, but I want you to want to stay. So I told them to treat you like my second-in-command.”  
Your jaw dropped as you stared at him. “I… I’m honored, Sir. I had no idea you thought so highly of me. I thought I was just your assistant.”  
His hand reached out and gently gripped your chin. “At first, you were. But after time… you became so much more than that.”  
“How much more?” you breathed, looking up and meeting his eyes. You were awed by the softness there.  
He used his hand on your cheek to draw you in closer, and you found yourself complying until you were almost sitting on his lap.  
“I shouldn’t feel the way I do about you,” he murmured. “You’re an angel. I’m the King of Hell. It’s unnatural. Yet I’m captivated by you. I want you to stay by my side forever. I want you to be my queen.”  
Your eyes widened as you stared at him. “Your queen?”  
He nodded, leaning in, resting his forehead on yours. Your breath hitched in your throat.  
“Will you be my queen?”  
“Yes,” you replied immediately. He closed the gap between you, pressing his lips to yours. You wrapped your arms around his neck, sighing softly against his mouth. He fell back against the feather pillows, pulling you down on top of him. You spent the rest of the night in his arms, neither of you getting tired or needing rest.


	49. Platonic - Little Winchester

**Little Winchester**  
Request for FightTheFairies  
A/N: I want to start a Cats series. Canon character couples or reader insert?  
Also, there wasn’t a timeline, so I’m saying everyone is alive.  
“Could you please write a child!reader one where the reader is taken in by the Winchesters and becomes a part of their family, but a demon finds out and uses her as leverage. Then Sam and Dean rescue her and then fluff? Thank you so much!”

Sam reached his long arms above his head, effectively pinning the (f/c) streamers to the wall with one hand and stapling them there with the other. He slowly maneuvered down the wall until the whole living room was colored in streamers, twisted elegantly and pinned to the ceiling. In each corner was a bundle of (f/c) balloons, held in place by decorative weights. A banner spelling out “Happy birthday (y/n)” was strong along the wall above the TV and Dean was busy in the kitchen, putting together all of your favorite snacks. A bowl of chips sat on the table, next to a bowl of your favorite candy and a pitcher of Kool-Aid. Several frozen pizzas waited innocently in the freezer and Dean was in the middle of reading the instructions on the cake box.  
“Hey, Dean,” Sam called from the living room. “I’m going to run to the store. We didn’t get plates or cups or anything.”  
“We have dishes,” Dean reminded.  
Sam rolled his eyes. “Plastic ones, Dean. We need plastic dishes for a birthday party. Do you really want to clean up after all our guests?”  
The older brother grimaced. “Point taken. Hurry back. People should start showing up in an hour.”  
“Will do,” the taller one promised, snagging the keys to the Impala and heading outside.  
It was your eleventh birthday and Sam and Dean were determined to throw you an amazing party. You didn’t have many friends your own age, so the boys invited theirs – Bobby, Kevin, Charlie, Garth, Ellen, Jo, Cas, and Gabriel.   
You were outside playing in the garden that Sam had helped you build. After he saved you from a werewolf that killed your family, he adopted you and brought you to the bunker. Dean didn’t mind your arrival, but he worried for your safety. Before too long, they both treated you like a daughter, and you felt at home with them. They helped you decorate one of the guest rooms to make it your own, and when you expressed an interest in plants, Sam offered to build you a garden and teach you how to plant your favorite flowers. It flourished, and now all of the buds had blossomed into beautiful flowers in a stunning array of colors.  
As you reached down to pluck a sunflower, which you were going to give to Dean, a shadow loomed over you, blocking the sun from your garden. You turned around with a smile on your face, expecting one of the boys to be there. Instead, it was someone you didn’t recognize. You had barely enough time to form a confused frown on your lips before a sack was thrown of your head, blocking your view. Something blunt struck the side of your head, knocking you unconscious. The last thing you felt was the person lifting you into the air and carrying you away from your home.

“Where could she have gone?” Dean asked frantically, pacing the living room.  
“Calm down,” Bobby insisted. “Are you sure she’s not here?”  
“I looked everywhere,” Dean replied. “She wouldn’t just abandon her own party. She’s been looking forward to this.”  
“Could something have happened?” Charlie inquired softly.  
“Nothing’s ever attacked us here unless we led it here,” Sam countered.  
“Maybe she read a bad spell and got transported somewhere?” Kevin offered.  
Dean shook his head. “She knows better. She knows all about monsters and magic. She doesn’t touch the lore books unless we give her the okay.”  
“Can you sense her?” Bobby asked Cas, who was standing in the middle of the room with his eyes closed.  
The angel shook his head. “No. That can only mean one thing.”  
Everyone turned to him to continue.  
“She’s in Hell.”  
“What?” Ellen exclaimed.  
“She’s not dead,” Cas explained quickly. “She must have been taken by demons, and they took her to Crowley’s lair.”

You whimpered and struggled against the shackles that held your wrists, curling into yourself as best you could. Flashbacks of your childhood attack burned in your mind, reminding you very vividly of your parents’ deaths. Tears escaped your eyes and slipped down your cheeks no matter how hard you tried to blink them back. You wished you weren’t tied to a chair so you could wrap your arms around yourself and curl into a ball.  
“You’ll be very useful,” a dark, rough voice informed you. You heard footsteps as the owner of the voice approached you, stopping in front of you. His hand roughly gripped your chin, tilting your head up to meet his eyes. You bit your lip to keep your sobs at bay as he stared intently at you.  
He smirked darkly. “Yes. You’ll do just fine. There’s no way the Winchesters won’t come running the second they notice you’re gone. You’re much better leverage than that dirty angel of theirs.”  
You mentally prayed as loud as you could, calling out to every angel that would listen. You focused on Cas, Gabe, and Balthazar, as they’d come to love you like a sister, but you added desperate pleas of wanting to be saved, not really caring which one heard.  
The door burst open, but you couldn’t see who it was. You only hoped it was someone on your side.   
“Boys,” your captor grinned. Relief flooded with fear at the realization that Sam and Dean had come for you, but that they now had to fight the demon that took you.  
They attacked him head on, not bothering to stop and ask why he took you. Sam lunged at him, demon knife in hand, while Dean threw salt at him. Cas ripped off your handcuffs and lifted you into his arms, flying you back to the bunker.

Once home, you found that all of your party guests were still there. They all welcomed you with open arms, murmuring comments of how worried they were and being glad you were safe. Sam and Dean joined quickly after Cas went back to get them, and you decided that you wanted to continue your party. Ellen had saved the cake, so she and Jo went to work frosting it while Charlie got into the frozen pizzas, cooking as many at a time as would fit in the oven.   
You sat on the couch between Sam and Dean, the rest of your guests scattered about the living room. They took turns giving you their presents, and they all sang to you when Ellen brought out the cake. The night ended with the lot of you watching your favorite movie on the large living room TV, and you fell asleep snuggled against Sam’s side.


	50. Lucifer - S.E.X. - SMUT

**S.E.X.**  
A/N: This one is pure smut. Thought I’d try my hand at not having a plot.

Bodies slid against each other, slick with sweat and hot with passionate arousal. Hands groped each other’s skin, pawing and clawing while moans of pleasure mingled together in the air.   
You were pushed back against the black satin sheets, your arms falling to rest by your head. Your legs spread of their own accord, unable to hide your arousal from the angel above you. Your body was hot and sweaty from hours of lovemaking, and it was time for another round.  
Lucifer hovered above you, leaning down to capture your lips in a searing kiss. You moaned into his mouth as his teeth tugged on your lower lip. One hand snaked up to tangle in your hair, using it to roughly pull your head back so he could access your neck. You gasped and closed your eyes as his teeth grazed your skin and his tongue peaked out to slide across your soft spot.   
His hips ground against yours, his manhood already hard once more. You wrapped your legs around his waist, desperate for more friction. While you were blinded by his lips on your neck, Lucifer pulled a pair of fluffy handcuffs from beneath the pillow and secured your hands above your head. You bit your lip in realization, your back arching when his lips traveled down your chest. His free hand cupped a breast, squeezing and kneading, while his lips found the other. He sucked your nipple into his mouth, his tongue flicking across the sensitive bud. You tightened your legs around his waist, feeling the wetness pooling between your legs, wanting nothing more than to feel him inside you again.  
He chuckled at your attentive responses, grinding his hips against yours. His hand slid from your breast down your side, his fingers dancing on your skin all the way down to your heat. You mewled when his fingers rubbed at your sensitive clit, your hips bucking against his hand. He chuckled again, slipping a finger into your waiting sex.  
“So ready for me, kitten,” he murmured, kissing his way back up to your neck. He sucked on your neck and pumped his finger inside you, angling to hit just the right spot to turn you into a whimpering, writhing mess.  
“That’s my girl,” he grunted, biting your neck. He pulled back and smiled proudly at the dark hickey he’d left on your skin, marking you as his woman for all eternity.  
He thrust a second finger into you, his pace never faltering as you wiggled and bucked against him. His hips helped to keep yours steady while he worked you with his hand, his other hand tugging at your hair and his lips alternating between decorating your neck and devouring your breasts.  
You felt a familiar knot building in your belly, but before it could be relieved, Lucifer removed his fingers. You whimpered shamelessly at the loss of contact and he chuckled darkly. He hovered above you, angling his hips so that his manhood rubbed against your entrance. You spread your legs to give him better access and he thrust in without warning, eliciting a loud moan from your throat.  
Again, he pulled away before you could get your release. He pulled out, leaving you whimpering and writhing.  
“Turn over, kitten,” he instructed, sitting back and using his hands on your hips to turn you. You complied, crawling onto your belly and bending your legs so that your ass was raised. Your top half rested on your bent forearms, your hands gripping the pillow beneath you.   
Lucifer positioned himself behind you, his hands on your hips as he thrust back into your sex. You moaned at feeling him inside you again, your legs spreading more to entice him to go deeper. He understood, pushing in as far as he could. His hands gripped your hips bruisingly as he pulled almost all the way out and slammed back in. You moaned loudly and your hands gripped the pillow, all of your senses gone. All you could focus on was Lucifer pounding into you like he owned you.  
He leaned over you, one hand tangling in your hair and tugging your head back. You mewled and turned your head to meet his lips in a possessive kiss. He sucked your tongue into his mouth as he continued his thrusts. While you were lost in his kiss, the hand on your hip slid forward to cup your throbbing heat. His fingers slipped between your folds to rub mercilessly at your clit, earning a string of loud moans from your lips which he happily swallowed. Your hips wiggled uncontrollably and your legs spread further. Your hands fisted in the pillowcase as you were lost between his thrusts inside you and his fingers dancing on your clit.  
He suddenly pulled out and lied down beside you. “Ride me, kitten.”  
You were happy to oblige, swinging a leg over his hips. You slid down onto his still erected manhood, moaning at the feeling. His hands gripped your hips as yours rested on his chest and you began rocking your hips against him. You looked down to see his eyes closed and his mouth hung open in pleasure, losing himself in your ministrations.   
You felt your knot building and this time you were in charge of letting it release. You rocked your hips faster, bouncing up and down against his body. His fingers left bruises on your hips, not that either of you cared. You loved sporting his marks of possession. You knew he left them because he loved you, not because you were his property.  
The knot in your belly exploded, your orgasm gushing out all over Lucifer. You kept your pace, dragging your nails down his toned chest. His hands gripped your hips so he could thrust his hips into yours, matching your movements. His orgasm came quickly, aided by your body bouncing atop his.  
Your name fell from his lips like a moaned prayer, the sound making you moan in return. You felt his orgasm inside you as you slowed down, your body tired from pleasure. You slid off of him and collapsed beside him. He turned to his side and wrapped an arm around your stomach. It was too hot for proper cuddling, so you would take his hand in yours or an arm around you until you cooled down.   
You feel asleep quickly beside the angel you loved and loved to please.


	51. Dean - Like a Virgin - SMUT

**Like a Virgin**  
Request for AnimeBooksDana  
“Can you please do a smut one for Dean, when reader has known Dean since they were kids and dateing for a while now and reader is a virgin so Dean can help her calm down? Thanks :)”

You stood in your room in the bunker, framing photos to decorate your dresser. You had just put up one from your childhood with the boys. It was when you and Dean were thirteen and you had begun developing a crush on him, so you did everything you could to be close to him. In the photo, you both wore happy smiles, and his arm was casually slung around your shoulders.  
You smiled as you set the picture down on the dresser top. Without warning, a pair of familiar arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you back against a warm chest. Your smile widened as you turned around to wrap your own arms around your boyfriend, Dean. He leaned down to peck your lips and you melted against him.  
“Sammy’s asleep,” he murmured as he peppered kisses down your neck. You could tell by his tone of voice what he was aiming at, and your body froze.  
He noticed your tension and pulled away to look at you. “Baby, what’s wrong?”  
“Dean… I’ve never…”  
He nodded in understanding before his eyes widened in surprise. “Never? Not even with previous boyfriends?”  
You shook your head. “I was always too shy… That was why a lot of my relationships ended…”  
His heart broke and he pulled you to his chest. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, baby.”  
His concern warmed your heart and you looked up at him. Standing on your toes, you kissed him, resting your hands on his chest. His hands rested at your waist as he returned the kiss with restrained passion.  
“I… I want to…”  
He looked down at you softly. “Are you sure?”  
You bit your lip and looked up at him with a timid nod.  
He kissed you again, leading you towards the bed. He lifted you into his arms and gently laid you down on the plush blankets before hovering over you.  
“Do you trust me?” he asked softly, resting a hand on your cheek.  
“Of course,” you replied with a nod.  
He smiled. “Good.” He leaned down to kiss you again, adding more passion than he had before. His tongue slid across your lower lip, asking for entrance that you immediately granted. You’d had Dean’s tongue in your mouth before; making out was nothing new for you. It was the removal of clothing and everything that came after that you weren’t used to.  
He rested one hand by your head to support his weight, the other traveling down your body. He started with your neck, sliding down over your breast and squeezing it gently. He traveled down your side, his fingers dancing on your hip. He past the waistband of your jeans, sliding down to squeeze your ass before continuing down your leg.  
He gently trailed his kisses down your neck, smiling when you tilted your head back to give him better access. He nibbled the skin, knowing that it was your weakness. His gentle touch and soft lips eased your nerves and you relaxed against the sheets, content to let him pleasure you as he saw fit. Your arms rested by your head and you didn’t protest when he spread your legs just enough for him to lie between them.  
As he sucked on your collarbone, his hand wandered up under your shirt. You froze at first, and he paused to wait for your consent. He looked up at you with patient eyes, only moving on when you nodded. He pushed the fabric up over your bra, revealing your plentiful cleavage, and continued on, pulling it over your head. Your cheeks reddened at the exposure and you tried to cover yourself. You’d never let anyone see you shirtless.  
He kissed you sweetly and rested his arms on either side of your head. His mouth against yours relaxed you and your arms returned to your sides, leaving your chest exposed. He smiled as he pulled away, kissing down your neck to your cleavage. You gasped when he took one breast in hand, kneading it gently, and pressed kisses along the other.   
His other hand reached around your back to fumble with the clasp of your bra. He looked up at you as he did so, waiting for confirmation that he was allowed to remove it. You met his eyes and nodded softly. He smiled and unfastened the garment, pulling it from your chest and arms.   
“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, taking a bare breast in his hand. Your gasp of pleasure distracted you from any response you had, your eyes fluttering closed as he kneaded and pulled the mound of flesh.   
When his lips found your unattended nipple, your chest exploded. You had never known your boobs were so sensitive and pleasurable. His tongue flicked across the bud, causing you to arch your back, pressing your chest closer to his face. He smiled at the response, his hand massaging one breast while his lips and tongue paid attention to the other.  
A tingling sensation grew between your legs and you bucked your hips, rubbing against his. He raised a brow at the action and ground his hips back against yours, smirking when a soft moan fell from your lips.   
His lips left your breast and traveled down your belly, leaving a trail of tingling heat on your skin. He paused again when he reached the waistband of your jeans, not wanting to go further than you were ready. You bucked your hips up as a form of consent, wiggling to help him remove the material. You sighed contently as cool air blew over your warming body, not minding at all when he nestled between your legs again.  
Only, this time, he was lower.  
His hand gently massaged your calf while his lips trailed from your ankle, up your calf, over your knee, and up your inner thigh, pausing at the edge of your panties. The tingling between your legs grew as he repeated the steps on your other leg. Your legs spread of their own accord, inviting him in. He hook a finger around the fabric, waiting for your approval. You nodded and lifted your hips, and he slid your panties off.  
Even completely exposed, you felt comfortable with the hunter hovering above you. Dean had always made you feel safe and loved, and you continued to feel that security as you lie beneath him, stark naked. He removed his shirt and jeans, leaving him in his boxers so you were nearly evenly exposed. He settled between your legs again, his face level with your belly.  
“Do you trust me?” he inquired again.  
“Of course,” you breathed. You always trusted Dean.  
“Your first time is going to hurt, so I’m gonna help as much as I can,” he warned. You nodded in understanding, content to let him help you.  
Your breath hitched in your throat when he pressed a kiss to your folds. You’d never thought of that. Your head fell back against the pillows when he replaced his lips with his tongue, licking along your slit. Your legs spread further and your hands gripped the pillow as he repeated the action, swirling his tongue around your clit, his hands holding your thighs. Using his fingers to hold your lips open, he wrapped his mouth around your clit and sucked, earning a strained moan from you. Sparks exploded inside your body as you squeezed your eyes shut, focusing on his tongue and the wonderful sensations it caused.  
When his tongue slid into your entrance, a moan fell from your throat. You had no idea his tongue was so talented. He pumped his tongue in and out of you, earning moans and gaps, his hands holding your hips as they bucked against his face.  
His tongue returned to your clit and sucked, one hand moving down to your folds. His fingers danced across your heat before he plunged one in, giving you a moment to adjust.  
When your gasp faded into a moan, he began pumping, building a rhythm for you to get used to. His tongue paid homage to your clit, making sure the pleasure evened out and eventually outweighed the pain.   
The knot in your belly was burning more and more as his fingers and tongue moved in sync to bring you over the edge. With a soft cry, the knot unraveled, your hips bucking against his hand as he rode out your orgasm.  
He traveled back up your body, his hips settling in between yours, his arms resting on either side of your head. He leaned down to sweetly kiss your lips and you found yourself turned on by the taste of your juices on his tongue.  
“Are you ready?” he murmured against your lips. At your nod, he pushed off his boxers and lined his manhood up with your entrance. You wrapped your legs around his waist as he slowly pushed into you, stretching you more than you expected. You gasped loudly, both in pain and pleasure, and he gave you a moment to adjust. He kissed your neck, waiting as long as you needed him to.   
“I’m okay,” you assured him, your hands on his shoulders. He nodded and slowly pulled out before pressing back in. Your eyes fell closed and your fingers dug into his shoulders as you adjusted to the rhythm,  
“Faster,” you requested, and he happily obliged. He slammed his hips into yours, burying his face in your neck. Your gasps of pain quickly faded into moans of pleasure as your body adjusted to his size. Your legs around his waist offered him the perfect angle, and with every thrust, he hit that spot inside you that built a knot in your belly.   
He couldn’t describe all the love and passion he felt as he slammed into you, hearing moans of pleasure spilling from your lips. Every so often, you moaned his name, and his heart leapt. He was overjoyed that you trusted him enough to let him take your virginity.  
His thrusts quickened as he pressed a kiss to your lips. You responded immediately, moaning when his teeth tugged at your lower lip. Your legs tightened around him and your fingers dug into the muscles in his shoulders as the knot inside you pulled tighter and tighter.  
One more perfectly angled thrust and you came undone. Sparks flew and your orgasm overwhelmed you. Dean’s name fell from your mouth like a prayer as he continued trusting, building his own orgasm and helping you ride out yours.   
Gripping your hips, he slammed into you, moaning as his release claimed him. He lied there with his face in your neck and your head on his shoulder, clutching each other as you came down from your highs.  
He pulled out of you and collapsed beside you, opening his arms. You curled into his chest, wrapping an arm around his waist. He wrapped an arm around your head so he could card his fingers through your hair.  
“That was amazing,” you breathed, nuzzling your face into his neck.  
He smiled. “Yeah, it was.” He was quiet for a minute before he added, “I love you, (y/n).”  
“I love you too, Dean.”


	52. Charlie - Leviathans

**Leviathans**  
Request for Jewel  
“Can I please make a request for a Charliexreader one where Charlie and the reader were childhood best friends but have fallen out of touch. Just like Charlie, reader is nerdy, but doesn’t know that monsters and such are real. She is attacked by Leviathans, but Charlie and the boys rescue her. The reader picks up hunting, and along the way she and Charlie confess their feelings for each other.”

You were putting away fabric at the craft store where you worked, colorizing the bolts and making sure the themes stayed together. Your current project was licensed characters, which included things like Marvel, DC, and Harry Potter.  
Your hand paused on a bolt of Harry Potter fleece that depicted the faces of Harry, Ron, and Hermione. The long-haired girl on the fabric reminded you of your childhood friend, Charlie, and her love of all things magical and fictional.   
A sad smile tugged at your lips at the reminder and you turned away from the aisle, grabbing a pile of St. Patrick’s Day themed fabrics and walking over to the holiday section.

You worked the closing shift which had you leaving work at nine-thirty that night. Once outside the building, you bid your coworker goodbye and headed across the parking lot to your car.  
By the time you reached it, someone approached you. He was young and looked innocent enough, but he had no reason to corner you in the dark.   
“Can I help you?” you greeted cautiously.  
He stared at you before his face contorted. Your eyes widened as you watch his features disappear, a large mouth with sharp, pointy teeth taking over his entire face. You let out a scream as he launched at you – then the world went black.

“Are you sure you’re ready for this?” Sam asked for the umpteenth time as he, Dean, and Charlie suited up for their next hunt.  
“Yes!” the redhead replied eagerly. “Let me hunt!”  
The boys shared a look and Dean nodded.  
“She can handle it, Sammy. Plus, we’ll be with her the whole time,” he insisted.”  
“But they’re leviathans, Dean,” the taller brother reminded.  
“She can handle it,” the older repeated.  
Sam sighed while Charlie triumphantly fist bumped the air. She followed the boys out to the Impala, throwing her hunting bag into the backseat before climbing in.

“It’s got someone!” Dean yelled as he leapt from the car and ran towards the leviathan currently looming over your unconscious body. He swung his machete and lopped off its head, rendering its body useless. He quickly grabbed the head and threw it several feet away so it couldn’t reattach itself.  
“Is she alive?” Sam asked, jogging over to the two of you.  
“Oh, my God,” Charlie breathed. She dropped to her knees beside you, her heart twisting uncomfortably as she took your head in her hands.  
“Charlie, are you okay?” Sam inquired.  
“Do you know her?” Dean guessed.  
She nodded wordlessly, tears brimming in her eyes. She checked your pulse and gasped in relief when she found it, signaling that you were still alive.   
“Let’s take her back to the bunker,” Dean said. He scooped you into his arms, careful not to jostle your injured limbs as he headed back to the car. Charlie sat in the backseat while Dean laid you down, your head resting on her lap. She cradled your head and toyed with your hair as Dean drove back to the bunker.

With Sam’s supervision, Charlie personally tended to your wounds. He instructed her on cleansing the gashes on your arm with whiskey and sewing them up with a needle and dental floss. She cringed every time she shoved the needle through your flesh and had to pull it through the other side. She knew it would be burning if you were awake enough to feel it. You twitched every so often, but didn’t wake.  
The next day, Charlie was by your side when your eyes fluttered open. You groaned softly as you came to, your senses taking a minute to wake up. You looked around the simple room you had been placed in, eyes widening when your gaze landed on a very familiar redhead.   
“…Charlie?” you guessed groggily, your voice rough from sleep.  
She nodded eagerly. “You remember me?”  
You struggled to sit up and she reached out to help.   
“What happened?” you inquired.  
“What do you remember?” she countered.  
You thought back to the last thing you could recall, which was meeting a strange man in the parking lot outside your work. “It’s going to sound crazy. I went out to my car, and there was this guy waiting there. He didn’t say anything. I tried to talk to him, see if he needed help, but he kept staring at me. And then… something happened. His face changed. He turned into this… this monster. I don’t know what happened after that.”  
She nodded in understanding. “This is going to sound crazier. What you saw is called a leviathan. They’re crazy virtually un-killable monsters. I’ve made friends with a couple of guys who track down and kill monsters for a living.”  
You stared at her. You wouldn’t have believed her if you hadn’t just been attacked. Plus, you could see nothing but sincerity in her eyes, and you knew she’d never lie to you.  
A smile fell on your lips. “I’ve missed you, Char.”  
She pulled you into a hug. “I’ve missed you too, (n/n).”

You spent more and more time with Charlie, Sam, and Dean. You were slowly getting used to hunting, and since you were still new, the boys often had you hang out at the bunker and help them with research so you didn’t get hurt. You didn’t mind; you weren’t exactly ready to jump into the fire after your run in with the leviathan.  
You did notice that you were growing closer and closer to Charlie. You’d had a crush on her when you were teens together, but you’d always kept it in because you thought she didn’t swing that way. You wondered about it now, with the way her gaze lingered on you when you spoke and the way she sat extra close to you when you were doing research.  
You were sitting together doing research one day. The boys had gone to the store for food and Charlie decided to wait with you. You sat beside her on the couch, scooting closer every few moments. She either hadn’t noticed or didn’t mind.  
You reached for another book and found that the one you wanted was on the other side of Charlie. Instead of asking her for it, you reached across her, expecting to be able to smoothly grab the book and return to your seat. Instead you lost your balance and collapsed on her lap.  
She raised a brow as she looked down at you. You looked back up at her with a blush on your cheeks. “Sorry,” you murmured lamely.  
She didn’t reply, instead resting a gentle hand on your cheek. She slowly leaned in, never breaking your gaze, and you realized what she was about to do. You beat her to it, leaning up and pressing your lips to hers. Her hand slid into your hair, tugging gently, while her other arm wrapped around your waist. You adjusted so that you were sitting on her lap, taking her face in your hands and tilting your head to deepen the kiss.   
You pulled back to take a breath and rested your forehead on hers.  
“It’s about time,” she grinned.  
You let out a laugh. “Yeah, it is.”  
She kissed you again, and that was how Sam and Dean found you when they returned from shopping.


	53. Angels - My Angels - Love Square

**My Angels**  
Request for Renee625  
A/N: Three of my four favorite angels.  
“Can u write one where Lucifer, Castiel, and Balthazar try to get the reader to love them?”

You were seated on the couch, reading a book. You could hear Castiel rustling around in the kitchen that was adjacent to the living room, but you paid it no mind. He, Lucifer, and Balthazar had been popping in and out of your apartment lately, claiming they needed to check on you. You figured they were just bored and knew you would pay attention to them.  
Your mind was pulled from the fantasy world of Red-Headed Stepchild when the delicious aroma of spice cake wafted through the air. Before you had the chance to get off the couch to investigate, a plateful of cupcakes, complete with decorative dollops of frosting, was suddenly present in front of you.  
Your gaze wandered up the arm holding the plate to find Castiel standing beside you, a light blush on his cheeks. You smiled and plucked a cupcake from the plate, bringing it to your lips. He watched you with bated breath as you took a bite.  
Your eyes popped open in amazement. It was the most delicious cupcake you’d ever had! You looked up at the angel with a smile on your lips. “How’d you get so good at baking?”  
His blush deepened. “I, uh… I didn’t. The first batch… exploded… So I used my grace to make better ones.”  
You rose from the couch and stood in front of him. You stood on your toes and leaned in, pressing a kiss to his cheek. Taking another bite, you asked, “How did you know spice cake was my favorite?”  
“You told me once,” he replied. “I remembered.”  
You thanked him for the treat and grabbed your book, sauntering away to your room.  
When you were gone, Lucifer and Balthazar popped in.  
Castiel turned to smirk at them. “I think I am going to win.”  
“You?” Balthazar returned. “Little brother, you don’t know the first thing about human ladies.”  
“I know she likes cupcakes,” Cas countered, holding up the plate for emphasis.  
Lucifer rolled his eyes. “Just wait, Cassy. I’ll be the one winning her heart.”

The next day, you came home from work. You were exhausted from working a nine-hour shift and all you wanted to do was relax. Your feet were screaming for a warm soak with Epsom salts, but you were just too tired to do anything about it. So you trudged to your room and collapsed on your bed.  
Within minutes, Lucifer appeared at the end of your bed. He greeted you with a soft smile as he sat down by your feet. You grunted in response, unable to form a proper reply. His gaze traveled down your body, taking in your heavy breathing and lack of movement and the way your eyes kept drooping as though all you wanted to do was sleep.   
“You look exhausted,” he commented as he took one of your feet and placed it on his lap. He gently pried your shoe off, your sock following after.   
“Hmm,” was all you could manage as he took your foot in both hands and began rubbing your toes. His thumbs pressed into the sore soles of your feet, effectively working against the tight muscles to relieve the tension that had built up. His fingers held the tops of your foot, gently rubbing while his thumbs moved to the ball of your foot.   
“Long day?” he guessed, his smile widening at the look of peaceful contentment on your face.   
You nodded. “Felt like forever.”  
“Wanna talk about it?” he inquired, knowing that you often vented to him when you had a stressful day.  
You breathed out a sigh. “There was just so much to do. It was like everyone forgot how to do their job so I had to do practically everything, and I was on my feet nonstop for nine hours, not including my lunch break. I’m just so tired.”  
He leaned down to kiss the top of your foot as he set it down on the bed. He then shifted so that he could take your unattended foot into his lap, removing your shoe and sock as he had done before. You hummed in approval as he worked his magic on your other foot, rubbing your sole and toes and working away the stress of the day.  
“You work too hard,” he mused. “You do the job of a dozen and you’re only one woman.”  
“Not my fault no one else can do their job,” you replied with a sigh.  
When Luce was done, your feet felt brand new. You almost forgot that you’d worked a nine hour shift and had come home in a bad mood.   
The angel crawled up your bed and lied beside you, opening his arms. You crawled into them happily. A snuggle was always what you needed after a long day. Lucifer dragged one hand through your hair, twirling it around his fingers, and within minutes, you were asleep.

The next night, you decided to make dinner. You knew angels didn’t have to eat, but they always ate when you cooked because they loved your food.   
Tonight, you were making lasagna. Everything was put together in a pan and shoved into the oven, and while you waited on the timer, you heated up some corn and green beans on the stove as side dishes.   
The timer beeped loudly and you reached across the stove to turn it off. You then opened the oven door, pot holders in hand, and reached in to grab the lasagna pan. The door tried closing on your arm and you let out a yelp as the hot glass touched your skin. You quickly retracted your hand, forgetting about the pan, and cradled your injured arm.  
Balthazar appeared in a second. “What’s wrong, darling?”  
“Nothing,” you replied, trying to play tough.  
He reached out and grasped your arm, holding it up to inspect it. “Darling, you’re hurt.”  
“It was the oven,” you sighed.   
He dipped his head and pressed a tender kiss to the burn. He placed his other hand over it, using his grace to cool the wound. You smiled at him as the pain subsided and the burn began to heal.  
“Thanks, Bal,” you smiled.  
“Anything for you,” he replied. He snapped his fingers and the pan of lasagna was now on the stove rather than in the oven.  
“Smells delicious,” he commented, wrapping an arm around your waist.  
“Thank you,” you replied, leaning against him. “I hope you like it. It was my mom’s recipe.”  
He kissed your cheek as the other two appeared in the kitchen and helped you set the table.

“Darling, we need to talk,” Balthazar said one afternoon as you were lounging on the couch.  
“What about?” you inquired.   
Cas and Luce appeared as well.   
“We need to know how you feel about us,” Cas said, sitting on the floor by the couch.  
“How do you mean?” you asked.  
“We love you, (y/n),” Lucifer explained. “And we need to know if you love us.”  
“Of course I love you guys,” you replied. “Why would you ask that?”  
“Which one of us?” Bal specified. “Who would you choose?”  
“Oh…” you murmured in realization. They’d been competing for your affections, and now they wanted you to choose.  
“Why do I have to do choose?” you asked. “Can’t I just love all of you?”  
Lucifer sat on the couch beside you and took your face in his hands. “We’re in love with you.” And with that, he leaned in and pressed his lips to yours. While you were distracted, Castiel sat behind you, pulling you back against his chest. Lucifer rested your legs over his lap, and Balthazar crawled over you to lie on your chest.  
Lucifer pulled away and Castiel rested a hand on your cheek. He turned your head to look at him and leaned in, capturing your lips in a gentle kiss. Luce’s hand rubbed your thigh while Balth’s hands rested on your sides.  
You broke the kiss for air and your head was turned again, this time to face Balthazar. He tangled a hand in your hair and kissed you passionately, earning a sigh from your throat.  
“Now how can I possibly choose between the three of you?” you asked, causing the three of them to chuckle. You relaxed against them, using Cas as a pillow with Lucifer massaging your legs and Balthazar rubbing your sides.


	54. Dean - Blood On My Hands

Blood On My Hands  
Request for Miriam Thordottir Lazaro  
A/N: Trigger warning. Cutting involved. Proceed with caution.  
“Dean walks in on the reader cutting.”

Dean let out a tired sigh as he and Sam returned to the bunker after a long hunt. They’d been tracking a werewolf that had learned how to hide very well, and it almost managed to scratch Sam. Dean was ready with a gun full of silver bullets, and they took the beast out before it could turn anyone.  
They had been hunting well into the early hours of the morning, and now Dean was ready to sleep. He contemplated taking a shower first, but he was so tired. All he wanted to do was cuddle up to you and pass out.  
You and Dean had been dating for a few months now. You lived with the boys in the bunker and hunted with them from time to time. Dean always wanted you to stay home so you wouldn’t get hurt, which you obliged. You only really tagged along when they were hunting something you knew more about than they did, and even then, you were mostly a resource of information. You rarely got into the heat of the hunt.  
“(y/n)?” Dean called, knocking on the door of your bedroom. When he didn’t get an answer, he cracked the door open and peeked inside, wondering if you were asleep. He wouldn’t be surprised, given that it was nearly five in the morning.  
When he saw that your bed was empty and unmade, he frowned. He pushed the door open and looked around, noticing a light coming from the bathroom. He headed that way and was simply going to knock on the door and let you know that they were home, but the sight that met him stopped him in his tracks.  
The door was wide open – your mistake. You hadn’t bothered to close it, figuring the boys wouldn’t be back until tomorrow and you’d have plenty of time to get rid of the evidence by then.  
You were sat on the middle of the tile floor, blood dripping down your arms and a small razor blade held tightly in your dominant hand. Tears poured down your face as you looked up in horror at being caught.   
Dean dropped to his knees before you and pulled you into his arms. You buried your face in his neck, your tears staining his collar. He picked you up so you sat on his lap and carded one hand through your hair.   
“Baby, why?” he asked softly. This was a situation he was used to. He used to find you this way quite regularly, but after you finally broke down and told him why you did it, he helped you move past it. You hadn’t been this way, at least to his knowledge, for months now. He wondered what had caused the relapse.  
“I’m just so stressed,” you sobbed into his chest. “I think about h-hunting a-and the monsters and what you and Sam go through e-every day and I just don’t know what t-to do. I think about how you d-deserve someone better, someone who doesn’t abuse herself, a-and you’d think that would make me stop b-but it just makes me want to hurt myself more.”  
His heart broke as he held you close. He didn’t even mind the blood pooling on his shirt from where your arms were resting by his abdomen. He kissed your forehead and rested his head on yours, closing his eyes.  
“What can I do?” he asked softly. “How can I help? I want to help, baby. I want to make you feel better.”  
You shook your head, signaling that you didn’t know what he could do. He gently grabbed one of your forearms in his hand, his eyes traveling over the horizontal lines stained with blood. He raised it to his lips and gently kissed scars, trailing kisses down your arm to your palm.   
“I love you,” he murmured. He reached over to the bathtub and grabbed a washrag that was lying on the edge. He turned on the water and held the rag under it until it was completely soaked. He rang out the excess water before placing the rag on your arm, wiping away the blood.   
“Hold that,” he instructed you, and you complied, keeping the rag on your arm. He rummaged through the drawers under the sink until he found a handful of gauze and medicine and set them on the floor beside you. He used the rag to wipe away all of the dripping blood, dabbed medicine on your wounds, and tenderly wrapped your forearms in gauze.   
With your arms bandaged, he cradled you to his chest again. He peeled off his bloody shirt and lifted you bridal style, carrying you out of the bathroom. He lied you on your bed and crawled in beside you, sliding one arm beneath your head as a pillow. You curled into his chest, tired and embarrassed. His arms wrapped securely around you, holding you to his chest like he would never let you go. You knew he wouldn’t. You knew he loved you.  
“I’m sorry,” you murmured into his bare torso.  
He shook his head. “Don’t be sorry. Just… Come to me when you’re upset, okay? Whenever you feel like doing that, come talk to me. Let me help.”  
You nodded wordlessly and buried your face in his neck. He rested his head on yours, one hand rubbing soft circles on your back while the other played with your hair. You soon fell asleep, feeling safe and loved in his arms. He knew it would take a while for you to stop completely, but he was ready to stay by your side and do whatever he needed to make you feel better.


	55. Sam - Welcome Home - SMUT

You were waiting up when Sam and Dean came back from their hunt and entered the bunker. You’d made dinner, which was now cold, but you didn’t mind, and you knew they wouldn’t either. They were just grateful to have home cooked meals instead of diner food. Dean’s best friends was the toaster oven, and Sam didn’t mind cold pizza.

“Welcome home!” you greeted them, hopping off the couch and approaching them. Sam wrapped you in a hug that lifted you up and spun you around. You giggled and wrapped your legs around his waist. He brought you in for a kiss which you happily responded, humming softly against his lips.

“Get a room,” Dean commented around a mouthful of garlic bread.

Sam broke the kiss with a chuckle. “Fine, we will.”

He proceeded to carry you to your room, leaving a disturbed Dean behind.

Once there, he dropped you on your plush bed before crawling over you. You gripped the collar of his plaid shirt and pulled him into a kiss. He chuckled against your lips and lowered his body so it rested comfortably against yours. You wrapped your legs around his waist, rocking your hips up against his. He groaned in response, already aroused just from having you beneath him. You could feel his excited manhood pressing against your inner thigh and it only added to the tingling sensation between your legs. You moaned into his mouth and snaked a hand up his neck to tangle in his chestnut brown locks, curling the strands around your fingers. His lips left yours to travel down your neck, peppering kisses and nibbles across your sensitive skin. You tilted your head back to offer him more ease, gasping when his teeth grazed across your flesh.

His hands gripped your hips, sliding up under your shirt. You arched your back and rested your arms above your head to help him pull it off. Your bra immediately went after, leaving your torso bare beneath him. You didn’t mind one but; he was always good to your bare torso. His lips immediately found your breast and took one into your mouth, swirling his tongue around your hardening nipple. You let out a moan and returned your hand to his hair, tugging it in approval. His hand paid homage to your unattended breast, kneading it while rubbing his thumb over the nipple.

His free hand reached down to unbutton your jeans, and you wiggled your hips to help him slide them off. You then kicked at the waistband of his denim, causing him to chuckle and unbutton his own pants, which you helped to remove. You groaned as your bare legs rubbed against each other and you could better feel his arousal against your barely clothed heat.

You moaned and Sam could hear the desperation in your voice. He made quick work of removing his boxers and your panties before rubbing his bare manhood against your slick center. You spread your legs as much as you could, angling your hips to help guide him in. He plunged inside you with ease and you moaned simultaneously. Your legs wrapped around his waist to get a better angle and you shouted his name when he hit that perfect spot inside you. His lips attached to your neck, biting and sucking a mark of possession onto your skin as he rocked against you. He shifted his hips and pulled almost all the way out before slamming all the way back in.

You raked your nails down his back, surely leaving marks. He groaned in approval before taking both of your hands in one of his and pinning them above your head.

A moan fell from your throat. “I like when you take charge.”

He grinned and kissed you passionately, sucking on your lip. “You’re mine,” he growled in between kissed. You moaned and nodded in agreement, feeling like putty in his dominant hands.

“Sam,” you moaned as the dam inside you weakened. With every thrust, you felt yourself drawing closer and closer to the edge. Sam’s hands pinning you down and his lips on your neck and his arousal hitting every perfect spot inside you was too much and before too long, you were screaming his name and writhing beneath him.

“Sam!” you screamed as your orgasm crashed inside you, oozing all over his manhood. He moaned and sped up his thrusts, resting one hand on your hip and gripping it as he brought himself closer.

“(y/n)!” he moaned into your neck with one final thrust. You moaned, feeling his release inside you, keeping your legs around him. His hips stopped but he remained buried inside you with his arms around your waist. He let your hands go so you would wrap your arms around him, one hand carding through his hair.

“Welcome home,” you grinned.

He chuckled. “Good to be home, babe.”


	56. Sam - Comforting Touch - SMUT

Comforting Touch  
Request for D Major  
A/N: I took out Sam being drunk because it didn’t really fit with the plot.  
“Hi I would please like to request A smut for Sam please and thank you  
Could reader be sad about something silly and Sam be drunk and then the smut. ?”

You sat on your bed with your knees drawn up to your chest and your arms wrapped around them. Your face was buried in your legs as you tried to bite back tears. You had just returned from a hunt with the boys and you were out of practice, causing you to mess up and Dean to complain about it the whole way back to the bunker.   
It was a ghost hunt in an abandoned building, and you weren’t paying enough attention to the rickety stairs you were climbing. The boys were already at the top when the stair you stepped on cracked beneath your weight and you fell, your leg getting stuck in the broken boards. You let out a yelp of surprise and pain, causing the boys to turn around and look at you. They were caught off guard when the ghost attacked, having more mojo than they were prepared for. The ghost knocked their salt guns several feet away before flying through Sam, knocking him back into a wall.   
“You almost cost us the hunt,” Dean had groaned when the ghost was defeated and you headed home. “You got yourself and Sam hurt. Don’t you know how to watch where you’re going?”  
You sat in the backseat, cradling your poorly bandaged leg and trying to bite back tears. Dean showed no relief that you and Sam were safe; he was focused on the ghost almost getting away and you not paying attention to the stairs.  
“Dean-“ Sam tried to interrupt.  
“No, Sam. She needs to understand she did something wrong.”  
“Dean, she fell. It wasn’t her fault.”  
“She should know to look out for soft spots in old buildings.”  
“She hasn’t been hunting in months. And you practically forced her to go. She wasn’t ready.”  
“Then she shouldn’t be a hunter!”  
The ride home continued that way, with Sam defending you and Dean refusing to let up. Once the Impala pulled into the driveway of the bunker, you flew out of the car and went straight to your room, not even bothering to properly bandage your leg.  
A knock on your door caught your attention as you wallowed. You managed a scratchy, “Go away,” you voice breaking.  
“(y/n)?” Sam called sweetly. “It’s me. Can I come in?”  
When you didn’t respond, he slowly pushed open the door, giving you another chance to send him away. You didn’t, so he completed his journey and closed the door behind him before sitting at the edge of your bed.  
“Are you alright?” he asked softly, reaching for your hand. You had been dating for a couple of months, and he always jumped to defend you when Dean freaked out.  
You shook your head. “I ruined everything,” you murmured into your leg.  
“No, you didn’t. Dean is just over protective.”  
You curled further into yourself, though your heart fluttered when Sam’s arms wrapped around you. You buried into his chest as he lied down, pulling the covers over you comfortingly. You cried softly into his chest as he held you, carding his fingers through your hair.  
His hand gently grasped your chin and tilted your head up to meet his eyes. He leaned in and pressed his lips to yours, gently nibbling your lower lip. You sighed softly into his mouth. He knew all of your weak spots that made you feel better.  
He gently rolled on top of you, never breaking the kiss. You wrapped your arms around his neck, tangling your fingers in his hair. One of his hands held the back of your head while the other gripped your hip. When his teeth grazed your tongue and he sucked the muscle into his mouth, you melted and wrapped your legs around his waist. He rocked his hips against yours, earning a moan from your throat. You slid your hands down to his flannel shirt and pulled at the fabric, removing the buttons from their slots. You then pushed the shirt from his shoulders and removed it with help from his wiggling.  
The hand on your hip slid under your shirt, pushing it up to your chest. You arched your back and raised your arms above your head so he could remove the material. He then kissed down your exposed neck and chest, his hands grasping your clothed breasts. You gasped and arched your chest into his hold, tightening your legs around him.  
He reached a hand under your back to unclasp your bra, freeing your boobs and letting them feel the cool air. He peppered kisses across your chest before settling them on one breast, sucking on your nipple. His tongue swirled around it while his hand massaged your unattended boob, kneading and gripping tenderly. You whimpered in pleasure, feeling a familiar tingle between your legs.   
His other hand reached down and unfastened your jeans, pulling the zipper. You wiggled your hips to help him slide them off before reaching down to pull at the button of his pants. He aided you in kicking them off before grinding his hips against yours. You gasped at the feeling of his bare legs on yours, your barely clothed centers writhing against each other. You moaned when you felt his vivid arousal pressing against your damp heat.   
His hand slid under the thin fabric of your panties and he ran a finger down your slit, earning a gasp from your lips. It soon faded into a moan when his finger plunged inside you, coated in your dampness. He continued his oral assault on your breasts while his hand pleasured you, leaving you bucking against him.  
“Sam,” you moaned, gripping his hair. You pulled his head up so you could kiss him, biting his lower lip. He sucked on your tongue and removed his hand from your panties, rocking his hips against yours. He hastily ripped off his boxers and your panties, leaving the both of you completely bare.  
“Sam,” you moaned again, more desperately, trying to hint at what you needed. He smirked, letting you know that he understood. He lined himself up with your entrance and kissed you passionately as he pressed himself in. You moaned loudly into his mouth as he filled you, wrapping your legs around his waist for a better angle.   
He gripped your hair, tilting your head back. You moaned at his dominance, closing your eyes in bliss. He dipped his head to attack your neck, nipping and biting, leaving love marks that would surely last a few days.   
You ran your hands down his chest, dragging your nails across his tanned skin. You knew it drove him crazy. He moaned into your neck before he took both of your hands in one of his, pinning them above your head. When he lifted his head, you tilted yours so you could return the favor, sucking a mark onto his skin where his neck met his shoulder.   
His thrusts were fast and hard, his hips slamming into yours, sloppy and sweaty. You didn’t care about rhythm as long as he was inside you. Every so often, he would pull almost all the way out, then plunge back in as deep as he could. He knew which moves of his hips made you cry out his name.   
His free hand reached down to your folds, his fingers rubbing at your clit. Your hips wiggled uncontrollably as you moaned, rocking your hips against his hand. Your body was over stimulated and you felt a knot building in your belly. A couple more thrusts mixed with his magnificent fingers sent you over the edge.   
“Sam!” you cried, your orgasm bursting around his length inside you. He removed his fingers and sped up his thrusts, pressing his lips to yours. He nipped your lower lip as he built up his own orgasm. His grip on your hands faltered as moans fell from his lips, giving you the chance to take control of your limbs. You ran your hands down his chest, dragging your nails up his sides. He shivered under your touch and moaned your name, his thrusts speeding up.   
“(y/n),” he groaned, burying his face in your neck. Your nails on his skin aided his orgasm and he with one hard thrust, his release took him. He managed a couple of slow thrusts before stopping completely, lying on top of you with his length still inside you.  
He lifted his head to lazily kiss your lips. “I love you.”  
“I love you too,” you smiled tiredly, returning the kiss. He pulled out of you and rolled over to lie down beside you, pulling you into his chest. His arms wrapped around you and you buried your face into his neck, your arm draped over his abdomen. You fell asleep, naked, sweaty, and satisfied.


	57. Sam - Lazy Hazy Crazy Days

Lazy Hazy Crazy Days  
Request for Karisma B  
A/N: You don’t know how excited I was for this one. Finally one that wasn’t about hunting or getting kidnapped.  
I’m sorry updates have slowed down!  
“Can you do a Sam one that’s just really fluffy? Maybe a day when he doesn’t have a hunt so he and the reader are just hanging out around the house ad being adorable playful?”

You awoke late in the morning with a well-rested yawn on your lips. Stretching your arms over your head, you blinked open your sleepy eyes and looked around the room in which you had fallen asleep. It was Sam’s room at the bunker, the room where you spent most of your nights since you and the younger brother had moved your relationship beyond friends.   
You rolled onto your side to see the long-haired moose sleeping peacefully, one arm stretched out as your pillow, the other resting above his head. Smiling softly, you snuggled closer and rested your head on his chest, causing his outstretched arm to wrap around your shoulders. You hummed softly and nuzzled your face into his bare chest, memories of last night springing to your mind. Rather than being embarrassed, you grinned, running your hand down your neck where you knew marks of possession would appear.   
Your shifting caused Sam to stir, and a moment later his eyes were fluttering open. He looked down to see what was weighing down his arm and he smiled upon finding you looking up at him. He tilted his head to press a kiss to yours.  
“Morning,” he murmured, his voice thick from sleep.  
“Morning,” you whispered back, nuzzling your head against his chin. He chuckled at the notion and rolled onto his side so he could wrap both of his strong arms around your torso, holding you to his chest. You snuggled against it, your own arms draping across his waist, enjoying the fact that both of you lacked clothing.  
“Do we have to work today?” you hesitated to ask, your voice muffled by his chest.  
“Nope. There hasn’t been anything weird close by, and after that week-long vamp hunt, I think we deserve a break.”  
Your eyes widened as you looked up at him. “A day off? Really?”  
He grinned. “Really.”  
You kissed him excitedly, soft moans emanating from your throat as his tongue grazed your lower lip. His hand tangled in your hair as he rolled you on top of him and spent the better part of the morning reminding you how much he loved every inch of you.

A couple of hours later, hunger and desperation for coffee finally dragged you and Sam out of bed. He left the room in pajama pants while you wore shorts and one of his flannel shirts. You grinned at the grimace on Dean’s face when he saw the two of you holding hands, bed hair claiming both of your manes as you sauntered into the kitchen.  
“You mind being a little quieter next time?” the older brother asked, pouring himself a cup of coffee. “The bunker isn’t exactly sound proof.”  
Sam rolled his eyes while you let out a giggle, fetching creamer from the fridge as he poured two mugs of coffee. You doctored both of them to your separate preferences before putting the creamer back in the fridge and picking up your mug.   
“What do you lovebirds have planned today?” Dean inquired as he leaned against the counter.  
You shrugged. “I think I just wanna laze around today. We haven’t had a day off in months, and any time off we get goes to research and shopping.”  
Sam nodded in agreement. “Movies?”  
Your eyes lit up. You never turned down a movie marathon.  
Dean chuckled. “I’m gonna do some work on Baby. She needs a bath, inside and out.”  
Sam nodded. Dean always wanted to work on his car. 

After a hearty breakfast of fried eggs and bacon, you and Sam retired to his room, remaining in your minimal effort clothing. You each took a drink with you and you sat on the bed while Sam rummaged for the few DVDs he’d managed to collect over the years. He settled on Beetlejuice, which he recalled you mentioning as one of your favorite movies, before sitting beside you on the bed.  
He sat up against the headrest, propped up by pillows. You sat beside him and snuggled into his side. His arm wrapped around your shoulders, letting your head rest on his chest and his head rest on yours. You hummed along with the opening music before sighing softly, relaxing against your tall and tanned hunter boyfriend.  
You couldn’t remember the last time you just got to relax and watch a movie with Sam. Most of your “days off” were spent working in other ways, like traveling or shopping or looking for a new case. You never got to laze around and pretend to lead normal lives, so you were going to milk it. You silently wondered if you’d be able to talk the boys into taking tomorrow off as well to do something fun.  
Your hand rested in Sam’s lap and his free hand held yours, lacing your fingers. You gently squeezed his hand, smiling when he returned the action. Your legs were tangled between his and you reached out to grasp the comforter that bundled at your feet, pulling it over the both of you.   
He pressed a tender kiss to your forehead and you smiled, tilting your head to look up at him. He repeated the action on your nose and both of your cheeks before finally landing on your lips. You pressed yourself closer, sighing softly against his mouth. He tilted his head to deepen the kiss, his tongue swiping across your lip. Your next sigh turned into a breathy moan as you parted your lips to let him in.   
“What about the movie?” you asked teasingly when you pulled back for air.  
“Let it play,” he replied, tugging your lip between his teeth. “Maybe it’ll drown us out.”  
You grinned and shifted so that you were straddling his lap, your hands on his chest. His arms wrapped around you, capturing your lips, and the rest of your day off was spent in each other’s arms and lips, moans echoing through the room.


	58. Castiel - Good News

Good News

Request for Daffodil

A/N: The name and sex of the baby wasn't included in the request so I decided.

"Could I please request a Cas x reader  
Reader is pregnant. Could the one shot be about things Cas do for reader in the 9 months she pregnant?"

 

Pregnant.

The word repeated itself over and over in your mind as you twirled the plastic stick in your hands. The tiny screen displayed two pink lines, signaling that there was a being growing inside you.

A half-angel being. Wasn't that illegal?

That didn't matter now. First, you had to tell the father that he was, in fact, going to be a father.

You found Castiel in the library with the Winchesters, flipping through books while Sam perused the internet for information on their latest case.

"Hey, (y/n)," Sam greeted, looking up at you. "How are you feeling?"

They all knew that you'd been sick for a couple of weeks.

"Did something happen?" Dean asked, taking in the look of anxiety on your face.

"Cas, I need to talk to you," you replied.

"Of course," he nodded. He stood and wrapped his arms around you, flying you to his room.

Sam and Dean shared a look but went back to their research.

In Cas's room, he led you to his bed and sat down. "What's wrong? Are you still sick? Is it serious?"

"Kind of," you replied. You held up the pregnancy test. "Do you know what this is?"

He shook his head. "What is it?"

You took a deep breath. "It's a pregnancy test."

He stared at you. "What is the result?"

You took his hands and placed them on your belly. "I'm pregnant."

A grin split his lips as he took you into his arms. He stood from the bed, lifting you into the air and spinning you around. You let out a giggle as he finally set you on your feet.

"We're having a baby," he stated.

"Yeah," you smiled. "Are you okay with that?"

"Okay? (y/n), this is amazing." He stopped and his smile fell. "But... I'm an angel. This is illegal. Our baby could be in danger."

You nodded. "I thought about that too. But your opinion means more to me. As long as you're happy, we can get through anything."

He smiled and nodded in agreement. He placed his hands on your face, tilting your head up so he could capture your lips with his. "I love you."

"I love you too," you grinned.

 

Four months later, you were getting a bump. 

You stood in your bedroom in front of the full-body mirror, turning to the side and admiring the baby bump that was beginning to form. You ran your hands over your stomach and jumped slightly in surprise when two stronger, warmer hands joined yours.

You leaned back against Castiel's chest with a smile, and he rested his head on yours.

"How are you feeling?" he inquired. He had gathered every pregnancy book that he could so that he could understand what you were going through, and when something new occurred, he asked Sam to look it up for him.

"I'm fine," you replied. "My morning sickness has gone for the day and baby is sleeping so there's no wiggling around."

He smiled and kissed your cheek. "Are you hungry?"

You nodded eagerly. "I'm always hungry. Baby takes at least half of what I eat."

He led you to the kitchen, holding your hand in his. He made sure you were comfortable sitting at the table before he began assembling lunch for you. Your cravings hadn't been too strange, but they'd been constant. Thankfully, his angel properties allowed him to teleport to the kitchen or to the store when your cravings hit, saving him time. 

He placed a plate of your favorite snack in front of you and you smiled. "This is exactly what I wanted."

He smiled and sat beside you. He held your free hand as you ate, peppering kisses along your knuckles. He then knelt down so he could kiss your barely-showing stomach.

 

Six months was a milestone.

You were lying in bed, trying to get in a position that would grant you sleep. Everything was uncomfortable. Your belly had grown so you now had to lie on your side, which you didn't mind because it allowed more cuddling with your boyfriend. Cas was beside you, holding you and rubbing your belly. 

You felt a movement inside you and you gasped. "Oh!"

"What is it? Is it the baby?" Cas asked frantically. He was new to pregnancy, and he worried every time you were uncomfortable.

You smiled at him. "She's kicking."

His eyes lit up and he placed his hand on your bump. Within moments, your daughter pressed her foot against his hand. He grinned in excitement and slid down the bed so that his face was level with your belly. He kissed it sweetly before gently laying his face against it, chuckling when your daughter kicked him in the ear.

 

Three months later, you were standing in the kitchen with the boys when you felt a sharp pain in your belly. You gasped and clutched your baby bump, your knees shaking. 

"(y/n)?" Cas was by your side in an instant.

You felt a wetness trickling between your legs and realization hit you. "The baby's coming!"

Dean ran outside to start the car and Sam grabbed the baby bag. Cas helped you outside, insisting on carrying you. He slid into the backseat with you beside him and Dean drove you all to the hospital.

 

You let out a scream as you lied in your hospital bed. One hand was clutching the sheets and the other was squeezing the life out of Cas's hand. Sam and Dean were pacing the waiting room while Cas stood beside you, murmuring words of encouragement. 

"You're doing great," the nurse told you. You nodded, biting your lip before letting out another yell.

"I can see the head," she stated. A few more pushes and you heard the coos of the nurse as she held your baby. You gasped for air and blinked wearily, turning your head towards Cas.

"You did great," he told you as the nurse handed him your newly cleaned baby. He held her gently and kissed her forehead before passing her to you. A grin broke through your tired expression as you cradled her to your chest.

"She's beautiful," you murmured as you looked at her, gently holding her head.

Cas smiled. "What would you like to call her?"

You looked up at him. "How about Evangeline?" You had looked it up beforehand and learned that it meant "bringer of good news." Her birth was certainly good news.

He nodded. "Evangeline."

He sat beside you in your bed, holding you as you held your daughter.


	59. Sam - Book Thief - SMUT

Book Thief

Request for AzulaVernis.

"Reader x Sam starts in the library super fluffy, then things heat up and it ends in smut in Sammy ' s bedroom."

You sauntered into the expansive library of the bunker, putting away the books you had been reading to study up on djinn. You were new to the hunting life, so Dean would regale you with stories of hunting various monsters and Sam would suggest the best books he had on each type. You learned a lot about how their behaviors and how to kill them, but the boys had yet to let you hunt.  
You didn't mind. They would call you in the middle of a hunt to check lore for them, so you were still part of the team.  
You put your books away in their proper places and began looking for a new one. You found the one you wanted on a high shelf, too high for you to reach. Looking around, you saw nothing that you could safely use as a stool. A pout crossed your lips as you wondered how you would get up there.  
In your peripheral vision, you saw a lean hand connected to a toned arm reaching for the book you wanted. Turning, you saw Sam standing beside you with a smile on his face. He plucked the book from its spot, looking as though he were about to hand it to you.  
Instead, he held it above his head where you would have to climb him like a jungle gym to reach it.  
"Sam," you pouted. "Give me that book."  
He chuckled. "What do I get for it?"  
You stood on your tip toes, placing your hands on his abdomen. You pressed a loving kiss to his lips, wrapping your arms around him. He hummed against your mouth, wrapping his free arm around your back.  
"Almost there," he murmured when you pulled away.  
You pouted playfully, shoving him. He sat down in a chair, keeping the book out of your reach. You sat on his lap, hoping to get leverage. He held the book as high as he could while you straddled his lap, leaning against him and practically smothering him with your chest as you reached.  
"This is better," he grinned, running a hand down your side. You bit your lip to keep a straight face, knowing that if you gave in to him you'd never get your book.  
You looked at him with a smirk before dipping your head and burying your face in his neck. You kissed, licked, and nipped at his skin, knowing his neck was sensitive. He gasped in response, tilting his head back automatically to accommodate you.  
As you bit down on his weak spot, his arms dropped and the book fell to the floor. You heard it thud softly on the carpet, but just as you were about to pull away and claim your prize, warm hands snaked under your shirt, distracting you.  
His hands slid up and down your sides, warming you. His callused fingers danced on your soft skin, sending a pleasant chill up your spine.  
You lifted your head to kiss his lips and he immediately responded. He patted your lips easily with his tongue, delving the muscle into your mouth. You moaned at the sensation, nibbling his tongue. He growled in response, sucking your tongue into his mouth. A whimper left your throat as you ran your hands down his chest.  
His hands slid from your hips to your ass, keeping your legs around him as he stood. You locked your ankles behind him to hold on as he carried you out of the library.   
You barely registered when you reached his room, too busy in his lips and tangling your hands in his hair. Once inside, he locked the door and pinned you against it.  
He broke the kiss, peppering his lips down your neck. You gasped for air as he took both of your hands in one of his and pinned them above your head. You whimpered under his touch, tilting your head back to give him more access to your skin. He bit down on your neck before sucking on it, leaving his mark and drawing a moan from your lips.  
He pulled away from the door, carrying you to the bed. He dropped you on the mattress before hovering above you, kissing you passionately. Your hands ran under his shirt, rubbing his muscled chest. He hummed at your touch before peeling the fabric over his head. You bit your lip in appreciation, your fingers dancing across his skin.  
His hand slipped under your top, pushing it up over your head. He then slid a hand under your back to unclasp your bra, discarding it as well. Your hands rested by your head, giving him full access to your now exposed chest.  
He licked his lips before leaning down, kissing all over your chest. He kissed around your breasts, teasing them before taking one in his mouth. A gasp fled your lips as you arched your back, pressing closer to him. He brought a hand up to hold your other breast, squeezing and kneading the mound of flesh. His lips worked at your nipple, licking and sucking until it was hard in his mouth.  
You fisted your hand in his hair, holding his head to your chest. His free hand wandered down your body, finding the fastening of Your jeans. He undid the button and pulled the zipper with ease, hooking his fingers into your waistband to pull the garment off your legs. You wiggled your hips to assist him sighing softly as cool air met your warm skin.  
You reached down to unbutton his jeans as well, your feet pushing the fabric from his hips. He wiggled out of them, tossing them somewhere in the room.  
Keeping his lips wrapped around your breast, his hand slipped under the fabric of your panties, brushing against your core. You gasped and rocked your hips into his hand. His long finger slid between your folds, rubbing your clit. Moans escaped your throat as he thrust a finger inside you, wiggling in and out slowly. You clawed at his back, coming undone between his mouth and his hand.  
As he added a second finger, his thumb slid over your clit, rubbing as fast as he thrusted. You bucked your hips into his hand, whimpering when his lips left your chest.  
Using his free hand, he pulled his boxers off and tossed them. Keeping his fingers inside you, he nearly ripped off your panties, leaving you both completely naked.  
"Sam, please," you gasped, arching your back in pleasure.  
Looking at you beneath him, naked and writhing from just his hand, he couldn't hold back any longer. You gasped when his fingers left, but bit your lip in anticipation when he settled his hips between yours. Kissing you, he thrust into you in one go. Your kiss was interrupted by a moan ripping from your throat as he filled you and began rocking his hips.   
He angled perfectly, hitting every spot inside you. His name fell from your lips like a prayer as your hands rested by your head. He pinned them with his own, adding to your arousal. Your legs wrapped around his waist, keeping his angle as he thrust into you. He would pull nearly all the way out before slamming back in completely. The sound of skin slapping skin spurred you both on. Your hips would be sore from the pressure but you didn't care.  
You felt your high approaching. He kept your hands pinned with one of his, the other reaching down between your legs. His fingers danced across your clit and you came undone, screaming his name.   
"That's my girl," he coped, rocking into you to ride out your orgasm. "Moan for me."  
You moaned shamelessly as your orgasm subsided and his exploded. He moaned your name, burying his face in your neck as he released inside you.  
He stilled, kissing your neck tenderly. You kissed his sweaty forehead, panting.  
"Remind me to take your books more often," he teased.  
You let out a breathy laugh and nodded. You certainly didn't mind the outcome.


	60. Dean - Car Wash

Car Wash  
Request for MisfitCarter  
“I was wondering if maybe you'd be willing to a one shot where Dean and the reader are dating and he gets turned on while watching her wash the Impala. Like, "Mmmm. My baby taking care of Baby." Anyway, thank you! And I hope to hear ya from ya hun! Keep up the great work!”

Sudsy water dripped from the large car sponge gripped tightly in your right hand, leaving a trail of soap and bubbles wherever your arm went. The sponge glided across the shiny black hood, leaving suds to cascade over the grill and drip onto the ground.   
The sponge left the car, dipping into the large bucket of hot, soapy water to replenish its supply and transfer the cleanser to the driver’s side door. The hot sun beat down on you and the car, the chrome detailing gleaming in the light, almost blinding you as you dragged the sponge over the side view mirror.   
This was how you relaxed. In the summer when there was a break between hunts, you would cook breakfast for the boys and then go outside and clean Baby. Dean had been hesitant at first- no one but him and Sam could touch Baby- but once he saw how sleek and shiny the car looked by the time you were done, he was happy to let you take over her bathing.   
Deciding that the beautiful hunk of metal had been soaped and scrubbed more than enough, you plopped the sponge back in the bucket of water and walked over to the side of the bunker where the water spigot was. You turned the knob, listening for the water to rush through the pipes. On your way back to the car, you picked up the end of the hose, placing your thumb partway over the opening so that the water would spray out.  
Water poured down on the car, rinsing off the soap and suds and leaving a shiny black Baby in its wake. It was warm enough for the metal to air dry, so once you ensured that all of the soap had been rinsed away, you turned off the hose and headed inside to dry off your hands.  
Dean had been watching you from the kitchen window, chewing his lip and shifting his weight uncomfortably. He got incredibly turned on whenever you worked on his car, whether you were cleaning her or changing the oil. You came from a family of mechanics, so you knew your way around an engine.  
You sauntered into the kitchen, reaching for a towel to dry off your hands. “Hey boys,” you greeted, nodding to Dean in the window and Sam sitting at the table.  
“Hey, (y/n),” Sam smiled, chuckling as his brother shifted awkwardly.  
“Hey, babe,” Dean grinned, wrapping his arms around your waist. “How’s my girl?”  
“Which one?” you teased, earning a louder laugh from Sam and a pout from Dean. “Baby’s all clean, and I’m sweaty from being in the sun all day.” You fanned yourself dramatically for emphasis, Dean’s eyes glued to your hand. “I’m gonna go shower.”   
You stood on your toes and kissed him chastely before turning on your heel and scampering down the hall to the bathroom.  
He bit his lip as he looked after you.

A few days later, after a hunt, Baby got muddy. Dirt clumped up all over the tires and mud had splashed up on the grill and bumpers.   
You were outside once again in a tank top and shorts, hair up in a bun (1). There was a large bucket of soapy water on the ground and a large car sponge in your hand, dripping down the side of the car and occasionally spilling down your leg.  
You were average height, but you still had to stretch to reach the back windshield as you leaned over the trunk. Your shirt slid up to expose the skin of your hips, and your shorts rode up to reveal the underside of your ass.   
Once again, Dean was watching, but this time from the front door. He groaned as you bent down to dip your sponge in the water, watching as the suds dripped down your arm. You waved your hand over the hood, dragging the sponge across the hot black metal.   
Hands settled on your hips, startling you out of your daze. You often lost yourself in your thoughts when you were outside taking care of Baby, so you were surprised by your sudden visitor.  
“Hey, babe,” a low voice whispered.  
You giggled at the barely-concealed excitement in his voice. “Hey, Dean.”  
“How’s it going?” he asked. You intentionally pushed your hips back into his crotch as you leaned forward to reach the windshield.  
“Almost done,” you murmured, waiting for his reaction. His response was a low groan and his hands tightening on your hips.  
You sauntered out of his arms and walked around to the other side of the car, soaping the passenger door and window before moving onto the back door. Dean stood off to the side, gauging your every move. His eyes scanned over your entire body as you moved, stretching and shifting, your shirt rising and your shorts tightening.   
Water dribbled down your legs and an idea struck him. He lifted the bucket of soapy water and sneaked up behind you, positioning it over your head. He tipped it, showering you in warm water.  
Your jaw fell open in surprise and you turned to look at your boyfriend. He was grinning sheepishly at you, having already dropped the bucket. You lunged at him, tackling him to the ground. He fell in the grass behind him, holding your hips as you straddled his waist. Your hands fell on either side of his head as you panted, staring down at him.  
“What the hell was that for?” you demanded. You weren’t really mad; more surprised, and pouty that you now had to change clothes.  
“Just had to make sure you were nice and wet,” he grinned.  
You rolled your eyes and rose from your prior position, jumping away before he could grab you.   
You made your way inside, trailing water behind you. Sam rose a curious brow, and you managed a breathless, “Dean.”  
Sam nodded in understanding as his brother finally came inside.  
“I’m going to change,” you said, pointing at Dean. “Don’t follow me.”  
He knew you weren’t mad, so he chuckled as you glared and turned away.  
“Make me lunch!” you shouted before disappearing down the hall. Dean laughed and headed to the kitchen, making sure burgers and fries were ready when you returned.

 

(1) If your hair is too short, pretend it’s long enough to be in a bun, or pretend I wrote that you have short hair.


	61. Sam - Little Winchester - Child!Reader

Little Winchester  
Request for ella  
A/N: With help from The Silver Iris.  
“Could you do a daddy Sam one? For a plot the daughter would be about 7 and Crowley kidnapped her and Sam has to get her back?”

You closed your eyes as the wind blew against your face, breezing through your hair and pushing it behind you. The swing swung back, the wind changing direction and blowing your hair into your face. A content smile was plastered on your lips as your little hands gripped the metal chains that kept the swing attached to its post.  
Suddenly the swing stopped and your vision was gone. Being raised by hunters, you were more confused than afraid. You tried to wiggle out of the hands that were grasping your arms, but they were stronger than you. A hand clasped over your mouth to muffle your scream as you were carried away from the park.

The air around you was cold when the blindfold was finally removed from around your head. You tried to move your arms, only to find that they were securely tied behind your back. Your legs were free, but that didn’t help much when you were bound to a chair. A foul-tasting piece of cloth prevented any speaking beyond muffled groans.  
“Ah, you’re awake,” a male, British accented voice stated. His tone had an air of authority as though he expected you to bow at his feet and beg to be let free.  
You may only be seven years old, but you didn’t bow or beg to anyone.  
You tried to say, “Duh,” but the gag in your mouth reduced it to a sarcastic grunt.  
The man rolled his eyes, and when he came into view, your eyes widened in realization.  
Crowley.  
You hadn’t met him in person until now, but your father and uncle told you stories of dealing with Crowley and his fellow demons.   
He seemed proud that you knew who he was. He knelt down before you and reached around your head, untying the cloth and pulling it from your face. You coughed in response.  
“Do you ever wash that thing?”  
He was taken aback by your attitude. His prisoners didn’t usually sass him.  
“This is the part where you tell me where the Winchesters are so I don’t cut you to ribbons,” he said with an air of seriousness.  
“If you wanted to hurt me, you would have already. You’re a demon. Demons don’t usually postpone torture.”  
He raised a brow. “You’re very mouthy for a child.”  
You shrugged. “I’m a Winchester.”  
He sighed. “You know who I am, don’t you?”  
You nodded. “Crowley the punk ass demon,” you replied, quoting your uncle’s title for him.  
His eyes narrowed in a glare. “I was a punk ass demon. Now I’m the King of Hell.”  
You shrugged uncaringly.   
He was offended by your lack of concern. Humans were supposed to cower before him!  
"If you don't bow right now-"  
"I can't bow, stupid!" you whined. You clearly didn't understand the seriousness of the situation, and the King wasn't pleased with your ignorance one bit. "My dad's gonna come find me and he's gonna kick your butt."   
Crowley grinned. "Yes, that's the plan. You're merely bait."   
You frowned. "But I'm not a worm, dummy. I can't wiggle around. But this one kid in my class can-" He interrupted you with a load groan.  
"You wouldn't happen to have any much less annoying siblings, would you?" he asked sarcastically, to which you stuck out your tongue. It took everything in him to not stick his own tongue out in retaliation; he had to mentally scold himself. Arguing with a seven year-old? He was reaching an all new low, but if it would get him the Winchesters, it was worth it.  
“Tell you what,” he said, trying to worm a false nice tone into his voice. “Why don’t we play a game?”  
Your eyes lit up. “What kinda game?”

Sam and Dean knew right away that it had been Crowley. The punk ass demon had been trying to find anything he could to use against the boys, and now he had all he needed.  
They hopped into the Impala and sped down the freeway, looking for signs of Crowley’s hideout. He wouldn’t have taken you to Hell – the boys wouldn’t be able to follow him there. He had to hide you somewhere the Winchesters could eventually get to.  
They heard your voice coming from an old warehouse and pulled into the lot outside. Shutting off the engine, they fled from the car and ran inside, nearly breaking down the old door.  
Expecting to find you screaming in pain, they were surprised to see you laughing.   
Crowley was knelt down before you, his face contorted in a shameful grimace. He had made a deal with you that for every piece of information you gave him regarding the brothers, he would play a game of your choosing.  
Your father and uncle had taught you well how to comply with demons while giving them absolutely zero useful information, and you took great pleasure in watching Crowley imitate various animals.  
So Sam and Dean were understandably surprised when they walked in to find Crowley sitting on his knees, barking dejectedly.  
“(y/n)?” Sam called out cautiously. “Are you okay?”  
You giggled in response.  
Crowley stood up to face the boys. “Just take her. I don’t even care about torturing you or gathering information. Just take this thing back where she came from or so help me…”  
He untied your arms and you jumped from the chair, stretching your sore limbs. You turned to face the brothers.  
“Daddy! Uncle Dean!”  
Dean lifted you into his arms, resting you on his hip.  
“Home?” Sam suggested. You and Dean nodded excitedly, and they lead you outside to the Impala.  
Dean buckled you into the backseat before sliding into the driver’s seat, and Sam sat shotgun but reached behind him to hold your hand.  
“You didn’t tell Crowley anything, right?” he clarified, looking at you.  
You shook your head with a giggle. “Nope! Whenever he demanded information, I would just make a noise until he gave up, like this!” You opened your mouth and let out a loud, squealy noise that had both your dad and uncle covering their ears.  
“Good job, pumpkin,” Dean chuckled.  
Sam smiled and rustled your hair. “That’s my girl.”


	62. Charlie - Sniffle Cuddles

Sniffle Cuddles  
Request for ExistentialCrisisIde  
“Can you do more fem!reader x female character from Supernatural. It would be nice if you could do more plezzz”

A sneeze erupted from the bundle of blankets on the bed, eliciting a giggle from you. You rolled onto your side and held the bundle to your chest, knowing your girlfriend, Charlie, was buried in there somewhere.  
“Feeling any better?” you teased. You were sympathetic towards her condition, but you had warned her not to go dancing in the rain. She did so anyway and now she had to suffer the consequences.  
She grunted in response, wiggling closer to your open arms. You kissed her forehead, running your fingers through her long red locks.  
“Are you hungry?” you asked gently, not wanting to push her. You knew she wasn’t feeling good and wouldn’t want to eat, but you also knew that she wouldn’t get better without sustenance.  
She nodded weakly, looking up at you.   
You kissed her nose. “Tea and soup?”  
She nodded again, whimpering as you rose from the bed. You chuckled at her clinginess, handing her a box of extra soft tissues before you left.

You sauntered into the kitchen, opening the freezer to fetch a container of Spirit Soup – something your mother had created when you were little. It was chicken noodle soup made from scratch, complete with homemade noodles. It cured any kind of sickness from a common cold to the flu.   
You made sure to always have it on hand after she taught you how to perfect it. You usually got sick during the transition from fall to winter, so around the beginning of autumn, you would make a batch and store it in the freezer for when you or a loved one needed it.  
You placed a container of soup in a sink of hot water to thaw before filling the tea kettle with water and setting it on the stove to boil. While all of that was going, you got out Charlie’s favorite mug and a bag of chamomile tea. It was her favorite when she was sick, especially when you loaded it with honey and a squeeze of lemon.  
When the soup was thawed, you poured it into a pot on the stove to heat up. The kettle whistled, so you poured its contents into the waiting mug. After setting it down, you grabbed the bottle of honey and poured a generous amount into the drink, squeezing a lemon slice over it before stirring it all together.  
You pouted the steaming soup into a bowl, taking it in one hand and the tea in the other, carrying them down the hall to your room. 

You shuffled into the room through the open door, setting the soup and tea on the nightstand by the bed. You sat beside the bundle of blankets that was hiding your girlfriend, pulling the covers back just enough to card your fingers through her hair.  
She hummed softly at the contact, tilting her head to look up at you. You leaned down to press a kiss to her forehead, helping her sit up. She leaned against the pillows that lined the headboard.  
“It’s really hot,” you warned as you passed her the soup.   
“Thanks, babe,” she murmured, humming contently as it warmed her chilly hands. She brought the edge to her lips as carefully slurped a bit of the broth, testing its temperature. She then dug the spoon in and brought it to her lips, gently chewing the noodles and chicken and vegetables.  
You rested a hand on her leg with a soft smile. You knew hot soup and tea would warm her up and make her feel better. You even had a bottle of sinus relief medicine on the table for her to take after she ate. She always got sick if she took medicine without food in her system.  
When the bowl was empty, she handed it back to you to set on the table. You then opened the bottle of medicine and poured an unhappy amount into the plastic cap. You held it in one hand and the tea in the other, looking to her with an apologetic smile.  
She took them both, downing the medicine and chasing it with tea. You took the cap from her, setting it on the table as she sighed softly and sipped her tea. She reached one arm out to you, indicating her need for snuggles. You chuckled and slipped under the covers beside her, draping an arm around her shoulders and letting her cuddle into your side, using your chest as a pillow.   
Your head rested on hers as you fished the remote out from where it had gotten buried under the blankets and aimed it at the TV. One hand carded its fingers through Charlie’s tangled red locks while the other turned on the TV and flipped through channels to find something she would enjoy watching.  
She set the tea on the nightstand and turned to lie on her side, wrapping her arms around your middle. She nestled her head into your neck, sighing softly as you landed on the channel playing The Big Bang Theory. You pulled the blankets up over the both of you, snuggling close to Charlie as a new episode began.   
You tilted her head up, nudging her nose with yours as you leaned down to peck her lips. She shied away from you.  
“What if you get sick?”  
“I don’t mind,” you chuckled. “Besides, I know you’ll take care of me.”  
She giggled and leaned in for a proper kiss, pushing herself up to meet your lips. You hummed softly, resting your hand on her cheek. You loved when she was in a cuddly mood. She was an affectionate person anyway, but you enjoyed when she was especially cuddly, which was usually when she was sick or really tired.  
She broke the kiss, planting one to your cheek before returning her head to rest on your chest. You kissed the top of her head, turning back to the TV. You promised to run her a nice, hot bubble bath when the show was over.


	63. Dean - Winning the War

Winning the War  
Request for LivBigDragon  
A/N: Paraphrased the request because my phone won't let me copy it.  
As someone who has dyed her hair a lot, the reality of this request gets me. You would definitely dye your hands washing your hair with dyed shampoo, and a little night stay in your hair, but it has to stay longer than the duration of washing your hair to actually dye it, and the fact that you're washing your hair would counter act the dye anyway.  
But for the sake of the request, we'll say it works.  
"Dean and the reader get into a prank war. He puts dye in the reader's shampoo, not knowing how hot she would look with dyed hair."

Sam and Dean may have been professional hunters, but they were still brothers, and they had a tendency to be immature. You mused that they deserved some down time between all of the research and tracking down bad guys - you'd lost track of how many times they had come home coveted in blood, and it usually wasn't their own.  
Lately, they'd been blowing off steam in the form of a prank war. You'd managed to stay out of the way, warning them that if they involved you, they'd suffer your wrath. They both knew you were fully capable of handling yourself, so pissing you off wasn't something they intended to do.

You and the boys had spent a lot of late nights numbing your brains with research lately.   
You awoke with a desperate need for caffeine. Sunlight streamed through the window into your room, waking you with its blinding brightness. You groaned tiredly as you forced yourself out of bed, throwing your legs over the side and sitting up. A yawn forced its way through your lips as you shuffled out of your room, heading to the kitchen.  
You weren't as much of a coffee junkie as the boys, but you needed it today. You had stayed up nearly until dawn, reading every book the bunker had on succubi. You needed caffeine if you were going to help them today.  
Had you been more awake, you would have recalled that the boys were in the middle of a prank war and would have ensured that everything was in order as you poured the steaming coffee into a mug. You grabbed the sugar shaker and poured your usual amount into the nearly black liquid. Next came your favorite creamer, of which you poured a generous amount before placing it back in the fridge.  
You stirred the beverage and took a sip just as Dean sauntered into the room. His eyes widened as he watched you drink your coffee, cringing as your eyes widened in horror.  
You turned around and spit the disgusting attempt at coffee into the sink, pouring the rest of the mug down the drain. "What the hell was that?!"  
"I'm sorry," Dean managed before bursting into a fit of giggles. He nearly doubled over as Sam shuffled into the room, copying your actions exactly. You let him doctor up his coffee and take a sip as you had, watching as Dean bolted out of the room by the time his brother finished.  
"Dean switched the sugar with salt," Sam realized with a grimace, downing a glass of water.  
You nodded. "He's gone too far. He got me involved."  
"What are you going to do?"  
You chewed your lip, thinking it over. An idea struck your mind and your eyes lit up like a Christmas tree. "I'm going after the pie."

You waited a couple of days so that Dean thought you were no longer upset and would therefore not expect a come back.  
The boys were on the last day of a hunt, according to the last call you had with them. You waited until the last day to begin your revenge, wanting the pie to be as fresh as possible to entice Dean.   
The entire pie was made from scratch. You peeled and sliced the apples, then cooked them in apple juice and cinnamon to make a filling. You then whisked together flour, butter, water, and salt to make the crust. A smirk claimed your lips as you poured the entire salt shaker into the mix.   
After pressing the crust into a pie pan, you stuck it in the oven. Turning back to the filling, you added a special ingredient. It saddened you to ruin a perfectly good pie, but the older Winchester had it coming.  
You poured the filling into the pan and topped it with decorative strips of crust before placing it back in the oven to cook.  
Shortly after the oven dinged and the pie was done, you heard the unmistakable Impala pulling up outside. You set the pie on the counter, letting the scent waft through the air as the boys came inside.   
You met them at the door, offering them each a beer. Dean took it with a grin, pressing a kiss to your cheek before sitting on the couch. Sam smirked as he took the bottle, catching the mischievous glint in your eye.  
"Is that pie?" Dean asked, sauntering into the kitchen. You offered him the entire pan, and he cut out a slice for himself. He kissed your cheek again in gratitude before sitting on the couch.  
You mentally counted down in your head as he took a bite.  
Three... Two... One...  
"What did you do to my pie?!"  
A giggle fell from your lips, and Sam doubled over as Dean spit the pie out onto his plate.  
"What's wrong?" you asked with feigned innocence. "You don't like it?"  
He looked up at you, mouth set in a disgusted frown. "How could you hurt the pie?"  
"What did you put in it?" Sam asked when he finally caught his breath. You tossed him a bottle of liquid smoke. Dean's mouth fell open in horror.  
"I'll get you back, babe," he murmured with a pout on his lips.  
"Sure, honey," you giggled.

You awoke content the next morning and opted for a hot shower. After all the late nights you'd been pulling, you needed it. You picked out clothes for the day and your brush and shuffled down the hall to the bathroom. You turned on the water and stripped down, making sure there was a towel on the floor and one hanging by the shower.  
You stepped under the welcoming stream of water and let out a sigh.   
You failed to notice that your shampoo and conditioner were a different color than they had been the last time you took a shower.  
You lathered your hair in shampoo, scrubbing until your head was full of bubbles. You hummed softly to yourself as the water cascaded down your back, rinsing out the colored suds.   
Conditioner came next, and you kerb it absorb into your hair while you washed the rest of your body. When everything was clean and smelled like strawberries, you rinsed the conditioner from your hair, failing to notice the color dripping down your body.  
Done with your shower, you turned off the water and poked a hand out from the curtain to grasp your towel. You wrapped it around yourself before stepping out and wiping the steam from the mirror.  
As your eyes met your reflection, a scream tore from your throat.

"What did you do?" Sam asked, surprised that he could hear you from the living room.  
"You'll see," Dean grinned.  
Moments later, you stormed into the room, sipping wet hair now (dye/c) instead of its usual (h/c).  
"What did you do?" you growled. Expecting a smug reply from the older brother, you were confused to see his jaw drop in surprise, as though he hadn't known your hair would change color.  
"Fuck," he murmured under his breath.  
"What the hell kind of answer is that?" you poured, crossing your arms. Dean rose from his seat and stood before you, his hands resting on your hips.  
"Damn, you look good," he admitted.  
A blush stained your cheeks. "Really? I was going to dye it back..."  
He shook his head. "Keep it... Please?"  
You giggled at his excitement and let out a nod. He took your face in his hands and leaned down, capturing your lips. The gesture caught you off guard and you released a moan.  
Sam cleared his throat. "I don't need to see this," he murmured as he left the room.  
Dean broke the kiss and rested his forehead on yours. "You look hot with that hair."  
You grinned at him. "Maybe you should come back to my room and show me how hot you think it is."  
He took her our hand and all but dragged you to your room. You decided you liked having dyed hair.


	64. Dean - Jealous?

Jealous?  
Request for AnimeBooksDana  
"Can you do a Dean one where reader gets jealus of Cas? Just thought it might be interesting, haha. Thanks."  
A/N: I determined the details of the monster. Don't correct me.  
Also, there may be a couple errors because I'm writing this on my phone and it likes to glitch and change my words. 

You sat in the library of the bunker, flipping through lore books with the boys. Your brain was fried from all of the research you'd already done, and there was still a large stack of books you hadn't even opened yet.  
"It's no use," you groaned, closing the cover of The Encyclopedia of Mythical Creatures. "We've looked up so many monsters already, and we've made zero progress."  
"We can't just give up," Dean argued. "Whatever this thing is, it's gonna keep kidnapping and killing women your age."  
"Dean, you're right," Sam stated with a sigh. "But we can't work all night. Our brains are fried. We need a break. You and I both know we can't continue research on coffee alone."  
"Go to bed if you want, then," Dean scoffed. "I'm staying up."  
A soft flapping noise was heard before Castiel appeared beside the older brother. "You're all still up? I thought humans needed more sleep than this."  
"Dean thinks he's Superman," you groaned.  
Cas furrowed his brow as he turned to Dean. "You're no good to the case if you're exhausted. Get some rest. Do more research tomorrow."  
Dean raised a brow, his grass green eyes darting between Cas and Sam and you. He exhaled a sigh and nodded softly. "Fine. Let's hit the sack. We'll start again tomorrow."  
You turned to look incredulously at Sam, ready to point out that you had both suggested taking a break only to have Dean dismiss the idea. But Sam wasn't looking at you. He was shaking his head as he rose from his seat, shuffling down the hall to his room while yelling out a drowsy "Goodnight."  
You didn't return the sentiment as you stood to walk away from the table, grumbling to yourself as you sauntered to the other end of the hall where your room was. 

The next morning, you stood before the stove, three frying pans sitting atop it. One pan sizzled with bacon, another was busy browning potatoes, and you raked a spatula across the third to scramble a bowl of eggs. The coffee pot on the counter beeped to alert you that the elixir of wakey-wakey had finished brewing, and you let out a content sigh as the smells mingled together to provide you with a sense of calm.  
Sam shuffled into the kitchen, looking around with a raised brow. He saw the brown liquid waiting innocently in the carafe and hurried to the cupboard to fetch himself a mug. As he poured his wake-up juice, he turned to glance at you, flipping bacon and seasoning potatoes. "What's all this?"  
"Breakfast," you shrugged. "We've got a lot of research to do. Can't do that on an empty stomach."  
He watched as you emptied the pans onto serving plates. "You don't think this is too much?"  
You turned to glance at him, narrowing your eyes. "I've seen you boys eat."  
He let out a chuckle and raised his hands in surrender. "Fair enough."  
A yawn was heard from the footway, and you turned in time to watch Dean shuffle into the room. He zombie-walked his way to the cupboard, following Sam's earlier motions of pouring a cup of coffee. You shared a look with Sam and frowned. Dean always at least said, "Good morning" when he came in.  
"I just finished breakfast," you informed him. "I made extra bacon."  
He walked around you to grab a piece, stuffing it into his mouth.  
"(Y/n) figured we should eat and get back to our research," Sam stated. "We've got a lot of ground to cover."  
"You two do that," the older brother replied around a mouthful of bacon. "I promised Cas I'd teach him how to fight."  
"He's an angel," you reminded. "Doesn't he know how to fight?"  
Dean shook his head. "Not like a hunter."  
"How about Cas helps us figure out what we're fighting so we're all on the same page and then you show him how to fight it?" you suggested, ignoring Sam's raised brow aimed at you.  
"No," Dean replied. "I told Cas I'd teach him first thing today. That's what I'm gonna do."  
With that, he shuffled out of the room.  
"What was that about?" Sam inquired, taking Dean's previous spot so he could snatch a strip of bacon.  
"You tell me," you sighed. "Since when does he not care about helping us do research?"  
"I was referring to you," he countered. "Why does him helping Cas bother you so much?"  
"I... It doesn't. I never said it did. I just think we should figure out what we're dealing with, and he should help with that."  
He narrowed his eyes at you. "You sure that's all?"  
Your brows furrowed defensively. "What else could it be?"  
He shrugged in response, munching on a piece of bacon before getting a plate to serve himself and you some food.

After a long morning and early afternoon full of research, you finally uncovered what you were hunting.   
"An incubus," you determined, turning the book you were reading so that Sam could see. "It's the male form of a succubus. They feed on the sexual energy of young women - that's why so many women have abducted and found dead. Incubi drain women of their energy until they die."  
Sam nodded in understanding. "That means you can't hunt it."  
"Like hell I can't!"  
"You're a young woman - the only thing an incubus is interested in. You'd only be in danger."  
"Use me as bait. It'll be drawn to me and then you and Dean can kill it."  
Sam shook his head. "It's too risky."  
"It's our only leverage."  
The brunet stared at you before exhaling a sigh. "Fine. But we bring Dean and Cas and the second we tell you to, you run."  
You nodded. "Deal."

You sauntered down the dark alley, trying to look inconspicuous as you looked for the incubus. They looked like humans, which only aided your anxiety. You didn't know if the creep watching you from the shadows was the monster you were hunting or just a drunk with dark intentions.  
A hand clapped over your mouth and you released a muffled scream. You could still see the Impala as you were dragged into the alley, so you knew the boys could see you. You told yourself not to struggle, but the incubus's very human hand was brushing your hair away from your neck, and all you wanted to do was cringe away and run into Dean's arms.  
Shut up, (Y/n). Now is not the time. He's not interested, anyway. The only person he has time for is Cas.  
The man holding you was suddenly ripped away, and a warm hand grasped yours and pulled you back through the alley, towards the car. You turned to look over your shoulder, catching Dean as he thrust a silver blade into the incubus's heart. You could have sworn you heard something to the effect of, "No one touches her like that!" but convinced yourself that you were hearing things.  
Sam led you back to the car, looking you over and making sure you were okay. Once Dean and Cas returned, the four of you headed home.

Back at the bunker, you followed the boys inside.  
"How about a movie?" Sam suggested.  
"Actually, I need to talk to (Y/n)," Dean replied. Sam nodded, smirking softly before leading Cas away.  
You looked up at the older brother. "What's going on?"  
"What were you thinking, using yourself as bait?"  
You rolled your eyes. "Come on, Dean. You're not seriously gonna yell at me, are you? We killed the incubus! We won!"  
He backed you into a wall, his hands on either sides of your head. "That's not the point. I... I was... worried."  
You stared up at him in confusion, hope sparking in your chest. "Worried?"  
He let out an exasperated sigh. "I... I care about you, (Y/n). When Sam told me the plan... I hated it. Thinking of even the possibility of you getting hurt. And when I saw that thing holding you, touching you... All I saw was red."  
"I didn't think I meant anything..." your gaze fell down to your feet. "You've been so focused on Cas, you've practically been ignoring me and Sam. I was about to fight that thing on my own to get your attention."  
A smirk crossed his lips as his hand grasped your chin, tilting your head up. "You were jealous of Cas?"  
Your lips formed a pout. "Shut up. I was not."  
"How about I make it up to you?"  
You chewed your lower lip. "How?"  
He leaned in, his breath ghosting over your lips. Your breath hitched in your throat as his mouth pressed to yours. Coherent thoughts fled from your brain as your senses were overwhelmed by Dean. Your hands slid up to wind around his neck, his arms securing around your waist.  
He pulled back for air, pecking your lips quickly before resting his forehead on yours. "No more using my girlfriend as bait."  
You grinned up at him. "Girlfriend?"  
His grin matched yours as he pulled you in for another kiss.


End file.
